


iNSaNiTY

by Ricky B (littletoes101)



Category: Baccano!
Genre: F/F, F/M, Foul Language, Language, M/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Sexual Situations, Shounen-ai, Smut, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:37:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littletoes101/pseuds/Ricky%20B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They knew that they were immortal. What they didn't know was that it would come for a price. A price they had yet to pay. Rated for language, character death, violence, and possible smutting. Shounen-ai/yaoi. Some inconsistency with canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Thoughts of a Madman [Luck Gandor]

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on FF.net, under my profile Queen Eli. It can also be read there.

Prologue

Luck Gandor

 

_New York City, New York : 0300 hours_

_What month is it? What day is it? How many years have passed?_

_Wake up in the middle of ascending in the night,_

Another day, another bloodstain on the knife.

_With some tears on my pillow and this blood on my knife,_

A new one had appeared where there was not one before.

_And my soul has stained the sheets but they're pulled off to the side,_

He must've been out killing again.

_Who's blood could this be, is it yours or is it mine?_

He didn't know he'd been doing it.

_Take the knife and twist it, where's my heart you missed it,_

How many people had he killed again? How many wanted him dead?

_You know I don't wanna die but baby you insist it,_

He didn't want to know. He didn't mean for them to die.

_Breathing is a luxury that I just shouldn't have,_

He shouldn't have lived.

_My heart just keeps on beating and it's more than you can stand,_

So many wanted him to die, and he even wanted himself to die at this point.

_Baby, please just tell me how we ever went so wrong,_

Everything was fine before all of this happened.

_We use to sing together when we used to sing a song,_

He remembered the somewhat happy days of the past year, before July 7th.

_We can never sing forever, cause now my voice is gone_

Now he couldn't even remember what his own voice sounded like. He only heard Him.

**_So what are you going to do now, boy?_ **

“I'm going to get rid of you.” He positioned the knife over his heart. “Even if it means killing myself to do it.”

**_Try it._ **

_Guess I'm gone forever and you knew it all along..._


	2. The Story Begins

Chapter One [The Story Begins]

Luck Gandor

_New York City, New York : 1000 hours (10:00 AM)_

_July 7 th, 1932_

Luck knew that something drastic had happened to him when he woke up that morning. Exactly what had happened, he wasn't sure of, but he knew something had occurred. You see, over the years, Luck had become very familiar with the daily changes and consistencies in his body. Something was off today, and it didn't feel right. it was almost like there was another soul inside of him that was not his own.

As he rounded the corner and walked into the living room, he noticed Firo curled up in his armchair, reading the newspaper, a cup of coffee sitting beside him, still warm and steaming. “Good mornin', Luck.”

“Do Keith and Berga know you're here?” Luck sighed, walking past him and into the kitchen. Normally, his brothers woke up before he did and went off to do whatever they needed to do, leaving Luck alone to sleep.

“Nah, I came after they left. But you know I'm here.” Luck just rolled his eyes at Firo's statement and pulled a cup out of the cabinet to brew himself some coffee, hoping that Firo hadn't used all of the beans. Discovering that he hadn't, he poured some of them into the grinder, putting the empty pot under the coffee maker and waiting for it to brew. As he did, the cup that had previously been sitting on the counter slipped off, shattering onto the ground. Luck gave a soft sigh at this, crouching down to pick up the larger pieces. As he touched the shattered cup, however, it changed. The pieces shook a bit, before they started coming together like the pieces of a puzzle, and the cup finally was reformed, sitting on the ground in front of him.

Since he'd become immortal, these kinds of things phased him a lot less lately, but this was new.  It was quite...strange. It only added to his fear that something had changed inside of him. As he picked up the fully-formed cup, Firo appeared in the doorway, looking over at him with slight worry.

“Are you okay? I thought I heard somethin' break in here.”

“Don't worry, nothin's broken.” Luck murmured, golden eyes still focused on the cup.

It was then that everything started to go downhill.

1200 Hours (12:00 P.M.)

Dallas and Eve Genoard [The Prophet and The Mover]

“Hey, Dallas, watch this.”

Dallas's cobalt blue eyes flickered over to Eve where she sat on the couch. Currently, he himself stood over by the door, leaning against the wall. He'd been standing there for a few minutes, staring off into space. Her voice brought him back to Earth, however, and his attention was now on her. Eve was focusing intently on a book that sat on the coffee table in front of her, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He wondered what she could possibly be doing, until the book started to move. It rose from its position on the table and moved through the air towards her, as though propelled by an invisible force, finally falling into her lap. She looked over at Dallas triumphantly; he returned her expression with one of surprise and shock.

“How...how'd you do that?” He managed to stutter out. Eve shrugged.

“It happened last night, too. I was trying to reach this book last night, but it was high on the shelf. I couldn't reach it. I was frustrated, and the next thing I knew, it fell on my head. Just like that.” Dallas finally broke his unwavering stare by blinking twice, as though trying to wake up from a dream.

“Don't you think that's a bit strange?”

“Being immortal is strange, too. Is this really any different?” Dallas did nothing but give a lopsided grin, walking over to Eve.

“Alright. I'm goin' ta bed, then. Tell me if things get any weirder.” Eve looked at him strangely as he said this.

“Bed? Dallas, it's only twelve...”

“I know, but I'm up all night anyway.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead affectionately. “Night, angel.”

“Goodnight, Dallas.” As he left, he noticed Eve out of the corner of his eye, making the book levitate in midair.

 

The strange events did not end for Dallas once he got to sleep, however.  As he dreamed, he saw visions; he would later remember them as dreams, but in reality they were visions.

A cluster of people huddled in fear.

Pairs of red eyes glaring from the darkness.

People lying dead.

The sounds of gunshots.

A wolf lying bleeding on its side.

The cries of the slaughtered.

And the whole time, as he lied quaking in his bed, a ghostly voice chanted;

_From the dark, a race will rise_

_one will submit while the other thrives_

_many a man will meet his end_

_while one girl refuses to bend_

_the valiant wolf will fall_

_only one will save us all_

_only one will save us all_

It was only the beginning of a hellish nightmare.

2200 hours (10:00 PM)

Dictator and Oliver [The Hunters]

 

The dark-skinned girl frowned as she looked out across the city, arms crossed. A large Sumatran tiger sat next to her, looking at her with blue-green eyes full of tension.

“They're here, Oliver. The demons.” He grunted. “Young ones. So desperate for souls that they'll kill immortals." The cat grunted again and pushed against her hand. “I know, we've got to move fast.” The hooded girl straddled the cats' back, and he stood, letting her mount him as a jockey would mount a horse. She dug her heels into the cat's side, barking out a swift “Hike!”, and the cat took off down the street in the direction of the Gandor's house.

It was then that the story could truly begin.


	3. He Rises

Chapter Two [He Rises]  
July 8th, 1932  
  
0800 Hours (8:00 AM)  
Firo Pirochinazo [The Riser]

The brown-haired boy crept slowly down the stairs, attempting not to wake the other inhabitants of the household. Both Ennis and Czeslaw were fast asleep, and Maiza never came home before 9:00. He was aiming to go sneak out and steal a coffee from Luck’s place before anyone woke up. He figured the coast was clear, before a cough sounded from behind him. It sounded unfamiliar, so Firo whirled around, reaching for the knife in his jacket.

Sitting in the armchair was a girl who was obviously no older than fourteen. She had short, slicked-back brown hair that stayed neatly flat against her head. She wore a long black overcoat with black pants and polished black boots. Her brown eyes stared into Firo’s reddish ones with an air of superiority, and she smiled. Sitting next to her was a large Sumatran tiger, wearing a blue collar, a brown harness, and a padded saddle-like seat on his back. The girl held on to the cat’s long black leash that connected to both his collar and harness. The cat himself was a rich reddish-orange color, with some white accenting his features and bold black stripes running through his fur. His intense blue-green eyes focused on Firo just as his partner's did. Just as Firo was going to open his mouth, the girl held up a hand to stop him.

“You're probably wondering what I'm doing here, right?” She asked. “I'll tell you that later. And don't try to kill me, I won't stay that way. The cat can't die either.”

“Are you an immortal?” Firo blurted out. She nodded. “And who do you think you are, anyway? This is my house!”

“I am aware,” she answered bluntly. “I first went to your friend, Luck Gandor's house. But the door was locked, so I came here.”

“To keep creeps like you from comin' in, obviously.” Th girl faked a pouting face, looking at Firo with big, round eyes. The cat mimicked her, letting his ears flop over pitifully. Firo's scowl only grew.

“Let's not resort to name-calling, shall we, Firo?” He took a step back.

“How d'you know my name?” He growled. “And how d'you know Luck's name, too?”

“I'm afraid I'm not allowed to say. But I can tell you my name.”

“Tell me then.”

“Dictator. Elijah the Dictator.” She remained serious, and Firo looked at her, eyes wide.

“That's your real name?” She nodded, and he blinked. This girl was turning out a lot stranger than Firo thought. “Well...tell me, what's so important that you had to break into my house to do?”

“Demons.” Her voice took on an air of urgency and the cat sat up, alert. “Tell me, Firo, have you seen or done anything strange lately?”

Firo wondered whether or not to tell her what had happened yesterday with Luck. Could he trust, honestly trust, a girl with the name “Dictator”?

He supposed that he had no choice. If he refused to say anything, she could sick the tiger on him. And, while it wouldn't leave anything permanent, it sure would hurt.

“Yeah. Yesterday, Luck dropped somethin' in the kitchen. I thought I heard glass breakin, so I went to check on him. But, he's just sittin' there, holdin' a coffee cup in his hands.” She nodded, and motioned for him to continue. “An' then when I was goin' home, I saw a dead bird on my front step. I went ta' fling it outta the way, but when I touched it, it shook and flew away.”

“And you're absolutely positive that the bird was dead?” Dictator asked, and Firo nodded.

“Yeah, an' I've seen a lotta' dead things. It was as dead as a doornail.”

“We'd better get going then.” Standing up, she adjusted her coat. The cat, too, got to his feet beside her. “Care to take a visit to the Gandor's?”

 

0900 hours (9:00 A.M.)

Keith and Berga Gandor [The Wolf and The Shield]

 

It hadn't taken long for Berga and Keith to figure out what was wrong with their brother. Luck had been visibly shaken all day, and they had noticed. At first, Luck hadn't wanted to tell them, but he finally broke down and confessed. Berga just laughed and told him it was all in his head, but Keith listened and nodded, giving his brother a gently pat of assurance when he was done. For Keith himself had also started to change. His sense had gotten noticeably sharper over the past few days. He was always a very attentive man, but now, he was noticing things he hadn't noticed before.

He had started to think that whatever was happening to Luck was happening to him too.

“Do you really think he told us the truth?” Berga asked while they were sitting on a bench in the park. The first warm rays of sunlight had started to filter in through the trees, and before Berga had spoken, Keith had been busy warming his shoulders in the light, eyes half-closed happily. Once he'd heard the question, Keith looked over at Berga, nodding. “Why?” He shrugged and looked down, studying his nails. They'd slowly darkened over the last few days to a dark gray color, which he found strange. “You dunno, huh?”

He did know. Keith set his hand next to Berga's, and his brother looked down, puzzled. He noticed the graying of his nails, however, and he looked back at Keith.

“What'd you do to your nails?” Keith shrugged. He didn't know the answer to that question, honestly. “Don't tell me you've got “powers” too, Keith!” The smaller man shook his head. Even if he did, he didn't know.

“Not yet,” Keith murmured under his breath, looking back up at the trees. A small bluebird fluttered into its nest, preening its bright blue feathers. Almost immediately, he was focused, and had forgotten about what Berga had said.

It wouldn't be much longer, however, before their own new-found “powers” would be revealed.

0930 hours (9:30 A.M.)

Claire Stanfeild and Chane Laforet [The Ruler and The Speaker]

 

Claire had discovered the change in him a while before the others had. Whether it was because of luck or sheer willpower, no one would know. He had accounted it to his “abilities” as the world's creator when it had happened, but later when he thought about it again, he realized that this was, indeed, an effect of something else.

The event in question occurred three days ago. Claire was on a mission, and assignment if you will, for Luck. It was nothing too complicated or difficult; all he had to do was get rid of a troublesome thug who didn't recognize his place below the Gandors. He'd attempted to set fire to the Coraggiosso, and had blown a hole in the side of one of the Gandors's speakeasies, killing three people. This, in Luck's eyes, was unacceptable. So he called in Claire.

Tracking the boy was easy enough. It was killing him where things got strange. As he looked into the terrified eyes of the doomed thug, imagining his actions and words, he saw a flash of red across his eyes. After that, Claire's imaginations of what he would do began to become reality. It was as though he was...actually controlling him.

Before he could think too much about it, he went ahead and killed him, taking time and grace to turn the body into a piece of bloody artwork like he always did. Now here he was, three days later, pondering it yet again.

“What do you think, Chane?” Claire asked his fiance after he'd told her. “It's weird, isn't it?” He didn't expect an answer. He never expected an answer.

 _I don't think it's a coincidence. Things have been happening to me as well._ Claire nearly fell out of his chair in surprise. Had she really just spoken to him? Her mouth hadn't moved; it was as though her voice had simply appeared in his head. He knew it had to be her voice, for it wasn't his, and no one else was there.

“How did you do that?” Claire asked, still in a bit of shock. “I thought you couldn't—”

 _Talk? I can't speak like you, no, but I've been able to speak to Father this way for a long time. But I've found out I can speak to others this way as well._ She stopped for a moment, allowing Claire to calm down and re-situate himself in the chair. _And there's something else. Last night, when I woke up, I was in the living room._

“But you fell asleep with me,” Claire stated. Chane nodded.

_I know. And I do not sleepwalk. So I must have teleported._

“That's a big conclusion to jump to...”

_So is mind control._

“...” She got him there. “You win Chane. Should we go talk to your father? My brothers?”

 _Your brothers first. It will be easier to reach them._ She had a point. Even if she could communicate with Huey over long distances, making the connection was difficult. Besides, it would be better if both of them could talk to someone at the same time easily.

“Alright. Let's go then.”

1000 hours (10:00 A.M.)

The Healer, The Riser, The Hunters

 

It had been thirty minutes since Dictator and Fro arrived at Luck's house, and none of them had spoken a word. They were sitting there awkwardly as Dictator poured creamer and sugar into her coffee, stirred it, tested it, and began to drink it down. When the cup was half-full, she gave it to Oliver (the tiger), who began to lap up the drink. When he was done, she took the cup and placed it beside her, glancing apologetically in Luck and Firo's direction.

“Sorry about the wait. We haven't had a normal morning in weeks.” The men looked at each other dubiously. This girl had “normal” mornings?

“So why are you here anyway?” Luck asked her. “You got some kinda' business to do with us?”

“Sort of. Allow me to explain.” Sitting up, she pushed back a strand of hair that had gone astray, and looked over at the two men. “It appears as though a group of young demons have appeared in New York. They are quite desperate for souls...so desperate that they will attack immortals. However, in order to attack you, they have to “bond” to your souls. This is why you have these powers.”

“We have powers 'cause demons are attackin' us?” Firo asked, giving her a sideways glance.

“No, they're preparing to attack you. by bonding to your soul they're making it easier to kill you, but they're also giving you demonic qualities. That's why you have powers.”

“How are we gonna keep them from killing us?” Luck asked, and Dictator smiled.

“That is what I'm here for. I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself, along with the other demon hunter who will arrive within the next three days. I'll also be teaching you how to kill the demons that'll come after you.”

“So you're 100 percent sure that they're gonna come after us?” Firo asked, eyes wide. “We're gonna get attacked by demons?”

“Yes.” She answered with certainty in her voice. “I'm surprised that they haven't already made a move.”

“So what are you gonna do until this other demon hunter arrives?” It was Luck who spoke again, quietly studying Dictator with his foxlike golden eyes. He'd been animated a few moments ago, leaning forward in anticipation, but now he'd fallen back on his heels, sitting calmly.

“Well first, I need to judge how strong your powers are at the moment and how strong they can become. It'd also be good if I could figure out exactly what category your powers lie in.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Luck asked her, and her smile grew a bit wider.

“You'll see.” Before he could ask any more questions, Claire walked in through the door.

1200 hours (12:00 PM)

Cornelius Daemonis

 

 _So weak._ The young demon thought, watching as Luck spoke to his brother and Chane. _But such a tender soul, filled with impurity, and years of woe_. Slipping into his shadow form, the demon merged undetected into the mobster's own shadow. Luck gave a shiver, obviously feeling the coldness that Cornelius had cast over him, but thinking nothing of it. The demon chuckled.

Now that he was in the man's body, the true fun could begin.


	4. Discovery

Chapter three [Discovery]

July 9th 1932

 

1200 hours (12:00 PM)

Huey Laforet and Ladd Russo [The Listener and the Flame]

 

It was that day Huey decided two things. The first thing was that something had drastically changed within his body and he didn't know what it was. The second thing was that whoever decided to put him in a cell with Ladd Russo was a sick fuck. It wasn't that Ladd had actually done anything to harm him (yet), he had definitely been talking a lot about how he wanted to. He wouldn't bother with Huey while they were in prison, but once everything had been said and done...

The threats didn't scare Huey. Nothing scared Huey anymore; once you live for over two hundred years, you lose a lot of your fear. No, he wasn't scared, but damn was he annoyed. He'd been much happier when he was alone, honestly. He couldn't dismiss the idea that he'd be needing Ladd soon for an experiment that he would most likely regret. Had he been able to see the outcome of this test before he took it, Huey might have hesitated. He reminded himself, however, that scientists do not hesitate.

When he finally put his plan into action, he knew exactly what was going to happen. Huey always at least attempted to think out his plans before he did them, to weigh the pros and cons and think about what could happen. He often criticized himself for this, saying that he “thought too much”. This time, he didn't have a choice. He had to think, or else he ran the risk of some sort of disaster happening.

The night before, he stayed up all night, pacing back and forth in the cell while Ladd slept. He could only pace so long as the guards weren't around. Whenever he heard footsteps that were not his own, Huey dove for the safety of his bed, “playing dead” as he lied there, pretending to sleep until the foosteps faded and a flashlight no longer shone on his face. As soon as he was sure that the coast was clear, he began pacing again.

This ritual continued until the first rays of sunlight filtered in through the barred window, and his blonde cellmate shifted in his sleep. Huey's golden eyes looked over instinctively in Ladd's direction, as the blonde's own blue eyes opened to meet his.

"Morning." Ladd said concomitantly. Huey remained silent, leaning heavily against the sink. There was something very hesitant in his body language, and Ladd picked up on it. And so, like he did every morning, the lunatic smiled, eager to explore Huey's weakness. The raven haired man straightened up in an attempt to appear less vulnerable, but Ladd had already seen his momentary lapse of composure and was now sitting up eagerly.

“I'd like to make a deal with you.”

“A deal? So early in the morning?” He was answered by Huey's glare. “Alright, what do you want, then?”

“I just need you to do something for me, to test out an _experiment,_ if you will. Think of it more as a favor.”

“Why would I do any favors for you?”

“There's something in it for you, of course.” Huey had planned this out. He knew that Ladd wouldn't just “do” anything for him for free. It took him a while to figure out what he was going to offer him, but he finally had something that he was sure was going to be perfect. “If you agree to help me with this, then I'll let you do anything you want...to me.”

“Anything I want, huh?” Ladd gave a laugh, and Huey wondered if that was a good or a bad thing. He still couldn’t really tell. “Are you sure about that? You know what that means to me right, Huey?” The black-haired scientist nodded in response. The ever-present grin on Ladd’s face grew. “So what is it exactly that you want me to do?”

“Just take this,” Huey got close enough to hand the blonde something, then stepped back a reasonable distance. “And tell me if anything...changes, in the next few days.”

It was a vial, a small one, filled with an amber liquid. Ladd held it in the hand that he could still use easily (the one that wasn’t metal) and studied it. He wanted to know exactly what it was and what to do with it, though he figured Huey wanted him to drink it.

“Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal then, _pal_.”

The Healer and The Hunter  
1300 hours (1:00 PM)

Things had become very awkward in the Gandor household. Very awkward indeed. Dictator had set up permanent living quarters within the house, and she and her tiger didn’t appear to be going anywhere soon. She acted almost as though she _lived_ there all her life, yet she didn’t engage the brothers; usually, she only said “Mornin’” when they woke up, or asked where something was. Most of the time she stayed shut up in the guest room where she’d set up her living quarters, muttering about data and demon tracking. Luck had started to wonder if Dictator was actually serious about the demons. She'd seemed quite serious when she first explained the situation...but now Luck wasn't so sure. He could no longer tell if she meant it or not.

Something else that puzzled him as well was her tiger, Oliver. It was as though the thing knew it was an animal, but behaved as a human. Whenever they ate, he sat quietly on one side of the table, cleaning himself and “listening” to them talk. When the cat left a room, he turned the lights off. He pawed with his claws sheathed at doors to be let in. He always did as he was told without hesitation, whether it be from his partner or the Gandors. He could've sworn the other day that he'd seen the cat reading. Oliver had been sitting on the ground, one of Luck's old history books open in front of him, blue-green eyes fixed on the page.

Luck had no doubt in his mind that something was definitely off about those two. For the moment, however, he had no choice but to leave them be. He had a feeling that there was a storm of trouble brewing, and only when the rain hit would they truly reveal themselves.

While Luck himself tried to do his best at keeping his powers stifled, Firo reveled in his new ability. Besides resurrection, his second power soon burst through with amazing strength; animation.

“Look, Luck, I can make it move!” He called excitedly, running his fingers over the newspaper. At his touch, it began to move and “dance”, jumping around as though it were alive. Luck watched on with mild amusement, before Firo broke his concentration, letting it fall limp on the coffee table.

“That's...interesting, Firo. But, don't you think that it might not be such a good idea to mess around with your powers? It might get noticed by the wrong person.” He was looking at Firo with a serious expression, but his brown-haired friend just laughed.

“I'm sure nothin's gonna happen,” he replied, smiling. “Besides, Dictator told me that it was good ta' practice. So then I could use it ta' fight. What about you, Luck?” The blonde shook his head.

“No. To be honest, I don't know if being able to fix something that's broken is gonna help me fight a demon...”

“You've probably got a second, more useful power, hidden behind the other one.” It was not Firo who spoke this time, but Dictator. She stood at the foot of the stairs, grinning. “And Firo is right. You should start working with the power that you have and see how far you can push your ability.” Luck remained silent as Dictator walked over to the two men and sat on the couch. “Although I've still yet to discover your oldest brother's power, I think I'm close. Berga, however, doesn't show any power, but there's definitely a very powerful demon following him.”

“If you're as smart and educated on demons as you say you are, then why don't you figure out how to get rid of 'em on your own?” Luck murmured coldly. Her eyes flashed dangerously, and Luck realized that wasn't the right thing to say a moment too late.

“Don't you think if I could have done that I would have done it already?” She growled. “I could easily leave you to have your soul eaten by demons and it wouldn't affect me at all.” Luck blinked slowly at her words, turning his head away in slight embarrassment. Her stiff body relaxed a bit, and she sighed. “Sorry about that. I shouldn't have snapped at you.” Luck turned his head back to face her after she apologized, his eyes again focused on her.

“Don't worry about it,” he murmured again. “But I was wondering, besides us, have you gotten in contact with any of the other immortals?”

“I'm working on it,” she sighed heavily, reaching up and rubbing her temples in a tired manner. “Right now, Oliver is tracking down Isaac and Miria with a message from me. Ennis, Maiza, and Czeslaw have already been told by Firo, I presume? (The boy nodded at her words.) Good. I'm set to retrieve Huey Laforet tomorrow. The other demon hunter should e here soon. I contacted Eve Genoard, who will be bringing her brother and two other new immortals—”

“The Genoards got a hold of the elixir?” Luck's voice held hints of disbelief and contemption. Dictator's eyes flashed again, and Luck felt his skin grow cold.

“Yes. It shouldn't be a problem. We're going to need to have all of you in one place for safety reasons...”

“I can't see why we can't just sacrifice Dallas's soul to tha' demons, if he even has one,” Firo smirked, and Dictator's eye twitched slightly.

“That would be a bad move on your part, Firo.” She stated simply. “You see, Dallas has the power of precognition, or the ability to—”

“See into the future.” Luck finished for her, and she smiled. “So what you're saying is, Dallas is too important to lose?”

“Exactly.” Dictator's head turned suddenly as she heard pawing at the door. Standing up, she opened the door to let Oliver in. He trotted in with his head and tail held high, and Dictator smiled. “So I'm guessing it went well?” He exhaled heavily through his mouth and leaned up for a pt, so she gave it to him.

“So that means Isaac an' Miria are comin'?” Firo asked, and Dictator nodded.

“Yes, and once they've arrived, I'll do my best to figure out their powers as well.”

None of the people in the room knew it at the time, but at that very moment, even with the now-lightened atmosphere, serious danger was brewing...

And all hell was about to break loose.

Isaac Dian (The Viper) and Miria Harvent (The Snow)

1330 Hours (1:30 PM)

 

“Say, Miria, don't you think it's peculiar?” Isaac asked his partner after they'd been visited by the tiger. “All this strange stuff is happening to us!”

“What do you mean, Isaac?” Miria questioned as she walked alongside him to the Gandor's house.

“Haven't you noticed it? These powers,” Isaac told her. “Don't you have one?” She shook her head, and Isaac blinked in disbelief. “Well, you see, Miria...” Taking off one of his gloves, Isaac showed Miria his nails. “They look normal, right?”

“Just like they've always looked,” Miria replied with certainty.

“Well, now watch.” Isaac shook his hand a bit, tapping them on his side. A yellow drop of liquid formed on them, before dropping off onto the pavement. “Isn't it strange?” Miria's brown eyes were wide at his display.

“That _is_ strange!” She agreed, nodding her head.

“And we got the letter from this “Dictator” character,” Isaac continued, pulling the letter from where he'd put it in his jacket pocket. “Who do you think he is? He sounds tough...”

“Yeah, really tough,” Miria echoed.

“And it says he's at the Gandor's house...do you think he's holding them hostage, Miria?”

“Not the Gandors!”

“We'll have to rescue them!” Isaac declared. The house was now in sight, and he shifted his shoulders, as though he was preparing to fight. Miria nodded in agreement, balling up her fists to “look tough”. Without any further warning, Isaac pushed open the door, jumping into the house with Miria behind him.

“Worry no more, my friends!” He called. Luck folded down the newspaper to look at them from where he sat in the recliner, and Firo's head appeared from behind the couch. “We're here to save you!”

“Save us from what?” Luck sighed exasperatedly.

“From this Dictator fellow,” Miria answered. “He's holding you hostage right?”

“Actually,” Dictator stated flatly as she stepped into view, leaning against the doorway. “ _She_ isn't holding anyone hostage. Allow me to introduce myself.” Walking up to the newcomers, she held out a hand. “My name is Elijah the Dictator, but you can call me Dictator. I'm the one who sent you that letter, and I promise I have no intention of holding the Gandors, or anyone for that matter, hostage.” She gave them a warm smile, and Isaac took her hand.

“Well then, in that case...” He gave it a hearty shake, and Miria did the same when he was done. “It's nice to meet you!”

Luck carefully watched the two interact with Dictator for a moment, before getting up and trotting out. Dictator's eyes wandered over to examine the empty space that he'd left, before she was drawn back to Isaac and Miria.

Something unpleasant was about to happen.

The Prophet and The Healer

1400 Hours (2:00 PM)

Everything in Dallas's brain was telling him not to do this. Every muscle in his body was tense as he stood at the back entrance of the Gandor's house, looking around wearily. He clutched his leather-bound journal close to his chest, cobalt blue eyes filled with worry and hesitation. Should he go? Did he dare touch the door? Just as he was contemplating reaching out his arm, there was a blur of color and suddenly, something slammed into him, pushing him up against the wall by his throat. He let out a choked noise of surprise, looking at his attacker with lidded eyes. The youngest Gandor's eyes gleamed a vicious red, his lips curled back in a snarl.

“What are you doing here?” He growled darkly. There was something _wrong_ with all of this, definitely, but Dallas didn't have enough time to process exactly what it was.

“Luck...” He gasped, putting his hand on Luck's wrist in an attempt to get him to let go. “Let...let me explain...” He let out another choked noise as Luck pressed harder. Dallas could almost feel the lack of oxygen in his brain, and he tried to look into Luck's eyes. “Please...I come...in peace!” At this point, he could no longer speak, and for a moment the two simply looked at each other, before Luck's grip finally relaxed. Dallas curled into a heap at his feet, gasping for breath, and Luck's eyes returned to their normal golden color.

“I'm sorry about that,” he murmured, looking down at his hand. “A...lot of things have been changing lately.” A cold shudder went down Luck's spine as he looked, before letting his arm rest at his side. When Dallas could finally breathe normally, he stood up, shaking slightly while holding onto the journal as though it was the only thing he had left. Luck noticed the journal, but he decided to ignore it for the moment, deciding instead to take a step towards the door. “Would you like to come inside?”

Dallas was almost surprised at how suddenly Luck's disposition had changed, but he forgot about it. He'd seen this in his dreams, these mood swings. Those red eyes. He had no idea what was happening, but he knew that it was probably something bad. Something involving the other red eyes that he'd seen in his dreams. Dallas nodded in response to Luck's question, and the man opened the door, stepping inside as Dallas followed. The reddish-haired man shut the door behind him, knowing that he was walking on eggshells so long as he was around Luck Gandor.

He'd never been inside of the house before, but from where they were standing, he could theorize that they were inside a back room of some sort, which would make sense, considering how they'd come in from the back door. Rubbing the back of his neck nervously, he sat in one of the chairs. Luck leaned against the wall a little ways away from him, his golden eyes focused on his guest. “So what brings you here today?” Dallas felt his stomach turn over and his skin grow cold, but he took a heavy swallow as his mouth grew dry. He would not act scared, he told himself. He could do this.

“I...need to talk to you.” He forced his eyes to meet Luck's. “I need to talk to you about what's been happening.” The other man remained silent as he spoke. “Now, I know tha' you've been changin', just like me. We've both been changin'.” Luck nodded in silent agreement. “An' though we've been doin' it in different ways, I think it's comin' from the same source.” He inhaled shakily and then exhaled slowly. “Demons.”

“So you know about the demons too, huh?” Luck finally spoke, and Dallas nodded. “Dictator's been tellin' us about those demons.” Dallas felt another shudder run down his spine at the mention of Dictator. He'd seen that girl way too many times in his dreams, and he had a bad feeling about her.

“Yeah. I think...I can see tha' future.”

“I already know, Dictator told me.” Dallas's eyes went back up to meet Luck's. “So what's with that notebook of yours then?” He motioned down to the leather-bound journal, and Dallas clutched it close to him again.

“It's...for the dreams that I have.” Dallas cautiously handed the journal to Luck, who took it and flipped through the pages. There was text there, some pictures. He didn't bother to read too far into them; they were Dallas's private visions, after all. “I write 'em down so I don't forget 'em.” Luck gave the notebook back, before sitting down across from him. “So...ya' still hellbent on killin' me?”

“Not anymore,” Luck replied. “And even if I was...Dictator wouldn't let me.” Well, _that_ was certainly reassuring. The only reason Dallas was living was because some girl thought he was important enough to have around. “So, Dallas...shall we join the others upstairs?”

The Listener and The Flame

600 hours (6:00 AM)

July 10th, 1932

“You have a visitor, Mister Laforet.”

Those were the first words Huey heard upon waking up. Sitting upright in his bed, he heard Ladd shift in the other bed, looking over with his blonde hair in a mess and his blue eyes still looking tired. He'd lost a lot of his usual vigor (probably a side effect of the elixir), but his eyes lit up substantially after noticing who was on the other side of the bars. Huey, too blinked his wide, golden eyes as he looked at the girl who stood there with her arms crossed.

“Dictator,” he murmured, as though he was greeting an old enemy. She leaned against the bars, smiling at him.

“Hello, Huey.” She pulled the door open and stepped in, not bothering to close the door behind her. Oliver stood guard outside behind her, tail twitching ever so slightly. “I'm here to pick you and Mister Russo up.”

“And what do you want to do with us?” It was Ladd who spoke now, propping himself up on one elbow. He stared at Dictator with mildly annoyed eyes, which was never a good thing, but Dictator wasn't in the least bit intimidated. She had no reason to be and she knew it.

“I'll be sure to explain it all to you later,” she murmured. “As of right now, you just have to come with me and not ask questions. So long as you cooperate, the authorities have agreed to grant you both your freedom.” Both Ladd and Huey were silent. That was a really good deal on the table. Before Huey could say anything, Ladd just grinned.

“Alright then. Let's go.” He sat up, brushed himself off, and looked over at Huey with a look in his eyes that practically screamed “you have no choice”. Giving a heavy sigh, Huey too sat up and walked over to her.

Everything was almost complete.


	5. Bloodlust

Chapter Four [Bloodlust]

July 11th, 1932

1200 hours (12:00 PM)

Jacuzzi Splot and Nice Hollystone [The Seeker and The Spark]

 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jacuzzi asked in a hurried whisper to Nice. They'd been told by Eve to go to the Gandor's house while she prepared the house for her leave. Now, they were standing outside of the door, Jacuzzi practically trembling as he clung to Nice. “M-maybe it'd be better if we went back to Miss Eve...”

“She's the one who told us to go ahead,” Nice reminded him, taking a step towards the door. “And by the way she was talkin' about him, I'm sure Mister Gandor's a nice guy. There's nothin' to be afraid of.” Before he could protest any more, Nice knocked three times on the door. It swung open to meet her, an exasperated Luck peering out at them.

“You must be the other two immortals,” he greeted, a smile making its way across his face. “Come on in, then.” He stepped to the side to allow them to enter, shutting the door behind them.

When they entered the room, they could see why the man looked so tired. It was absolute chaos. There were still sheets and pillows strewn about from where people had slept due to lack of rooms. The Gandors had obviously lost whatever control they had over the group of immortals when Ladd arrived, and had failed to establish any kind of order. The radio had been turned up quite loudly, broadcasting the latest baseball game. From the wrappers that were strewn about, Jacuzzi could infer that their diet had consisted mostly of candy and other things not at all healthy. At the moment, Firo, Isaac, Miria, Claire, and Ladd sat around the radio, listening intently. Jacuzzi suspected that, if anyone else was in the house, they were probably hiding from the madness.

“Sorry it's such a mess,” Luck apologized, running a hand through his slick hair. “We've been rather...uncoordinated over the past few days.” He flinched a little has the group around the radio jumped up suddenly, cheering.

“What'd I tell you guys, I knew they were gonna win,” Claire laughed. “That's five chocolate pieces for me.”

“You'll get it when you can catch me!” Firo taunted, darting off with Claire in pursuit. There was a crashing sound in the kitchen, and laughter followed, but Luck just sighed. He'd go to fix whatever they'd broken later.

Of course, Jacuzzi had recognized Claire and Ladd, and was now hiding behind Nice again. She couldn't really blame him anyway, so she just held onto his hand and led him up the stairs behind Luck. He definitely wasn't going to _leave_ them down there with them, and Nice suspected that he was taking them to where the others were.

They entered a room on the second floor where they did, indeed, find the other immortals hiding from the madness downstairs. The door was shut and securely locked again, and Nice was the first to take a step forward, still holding on to Jacuzzi's hand.

The lights in the room had been turned off, and a few candles in the room burned, giving off an eerie glow and the scent of cherry blossoms. Dictator was sitting on the bed, the others arranged around her in a circle. The two newcomers carefully situated themselves in the circle; Dictator acknowledged their arrival by glancing over at them, giving a smile.

“Glad you could join us,” she greeted, then turned her head back to the others. “As I was saying, they're drawing in pretty close now. Luckily enough for us, Maiza and I have protected the house with a rejection spell. Any demon who tries to enter will be thrown out.” There were a few amused chuckles at this. “However.” Silence again. “That won't help if a demon already resides inside of your body.” Now there was uncomfortable shuffling in the room. “One of you in this room has a demon inside of you. Now, its presence is not very strong, so I can't pinpoint anything at the moment. If any of you start experiencing anything...out of the norm, please, tell me. It's important that we do whatever we can to stifle it.”

“How is this going to set us back?” Huey asked stiffly, and Dictator shrugged.

“Only time will tell.” All was uncomfortably silent in the room for a few moments. The silence was broken when the sound of yelling and metal clattering on the floor sounded. Dictator scowled, standing up. Oliver, who'd been sitting in the corner, trotted over to her.

“I'm going to go get those idiots under control,” she muttered, gripping Oliver's collar tightly.

“Good luck with that,” Ennis laughed, and Dictator huffed as she yanked open the door. She proceeded down the stairs, and the others who'd been in the room watched from the top of the staircase, waiting to see what she'd do.

From where they were, they had a clear view of the trashed living room and the kitchen. There was flour everywhere, and dishes lie broken. Pots and pans littered the floor. Firo was laughing heartily, an empty flour sack on his head. Claire's hair was white from the stuff, and he was laughing with Firo. Ladd sat on the countertop, enjoying the mayhem. He hadn't been able to escape the mess, either; the black suit he'd been given was splotched and speckled with the invasive substance. Isaac was lying splayed out on the floor, a second flour bag resting on his back and a pot on his head. Miria sat beside him, giggling. She too had donned a pot and had a pile of flour in her lap.

Dictator was irate, but it didn't show until she opened her mouth and roared “Silence!” They all quieted and looked at her curiously. “What happened here.” Her voice was low, enraged, and dark.

“Well, we were tryin' ta reach the dishes,” Firo started to say, and Isaac finished;

“But they fell.”

“And then we tried ta reach the flour—”

“But the sacks both fell.” The two of them nodded rapidly, and her eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“Is that so? Well, then maybe you'd like to explain to me why the lot of you are playing in it like impudent children instead of telling me about the incident.” Her foot was irrepressibly tapping the ground, and they withered under her burning gaze. She then gave a heavy sigh, and rubbed at her forehead wearily. “Get yourselves cleaned up, all of you.” She growled, eyeng Claire and Ladd. “You've got an hour, then meet me down here. We've got work to do. Now off with you!”

Isaac, Miria, and Firo all ran up the stairs when she snapped. Claire hesitated, then decided it would be in his best interest to follow them. Dictator had to growl menacingly at Ladd to get him to leave. When they had all finally left, she stood in the kitchen, sighing.

“Need some help cleanin' up?” Luck asked, stepping up beside her. He kicked at a pile of flour, and it receded back into the flour bag, which sewed itself up and sat neatly against the wall. He did the same with the other bag, moving on to the dishes and putting them back in place. Dictator watched him, and when he was done she spoke.

“You're getting stronger,” she noted. “Your second power should start showing soon. And...” she grinned at him. “Just a hint: you can do more than put things together with your power. You can also take them apart.”

Luck stood in silence as she turned and left, holding the fully-formed cup in his hands.

Graham Spector and Reuben Shaft [The Bluebird and The Ghost]

1400 hours (2:00 PM)

Nobody really quite knew how Graham had gotten his hands on the elixir, or why he was overlooked at first when Dictator was finding all of the immortals. Now, however, news had gotten out, and Graham would not allow himself to be overlooked.

“Boss Ladd has been released from prison,” he murmured joyously, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. Shaft half-watched him with disinterest, rolling a loose nut under his thumb. “And from what I've heard, he's staying with some girl, her name's Dictator or something strange like that. Anyway, I think it's high time we went to find out what's goin' on...don't you think so?” Graham pointed at Shaft with the end of his wrench, and the brown-haired man looked at him lazily.

“If that's what ya' want, but I'm tellin' ya', she's hidin' out with the Gandor family. If we make any bad moves, it'll be the end.” The blonde paused, standing still, before turning on his heel.

“You've got a point there,” he stated. “However, how do we know she's not just _using_ the Gandors to try and protect herself? Perhaps they're not really affiliated at all, and she's pulling a major bluff to keep us from knowing?” It was a very plausible idea. Shaft paused for a moment, stopping the nut under his thumb while he contemplated a reply. He had nothing.

“Alright. So when do ya' wanna go find this girl?”

\---

Half an hour later, the two were poised near a lonely street where Dictator often took her cat to walk him, and, occasionally, ride him. They'd been waiting for a while, and Graham was starting to get bored. As he started rambling on about the uselessness of tedium and boredom, the more attentive of the two noticed movement at the front of the street.

“She's comin',” Shaft muttered, and Graham paused mid-sentence, blue eyes traveling excitedly to where the movement had been spotted.

The human-tiger duo were walking briskly down the street; Oliver kept his head up by her hip as Dictator walked, brown eyes unfocused and almost worried. She then stopped suddenly, her eyes focusing on the street ahead.

“It's rude to hide from people that you wish to speak to,” she called. “Come out, and talk to me. There's no need for an ambush.” Shaft could see Graham stiffen. He wasn't expecting this, obviously. How could she have seen them, or known that they were there? Unless she had precognitive abilities, it would be impossible. Deciding that his best bet would be to speak to her, Graham stood and walked out into the street, Shaft following close behind.

“I'm impressed, you were able to know we were here without even seeing us.” Dictator was quiet as Graham circled around in front of her, Shaft taking his place beside him. “So tell me, what's a little young lady like you doing out here all by herself?” She moved so fast that Graham almost didn't see her, but he managed to block her leg with his wrench as it came up to hit him.

“I wouldn't be calling someone older than you a _little young lady_ ,” she growled, her eyes narrowed viciously. Graham just grinned widely as she recoiled, both feet on the ground now. The tiger was sitting, surprisingly, not showing the least bit of discontent or contemption as his partner bristled. “And that's none of your business.” Her eyes flashed, and Graham let out a soft noise, a mix between a huff and a chuckle.

“Older than me? Oh, I see, you're one of those people who never die, huh? An immortal?”

“Yes, just like you.” Some of her aggression faded as she straightened up, running a hand over her slick hair. “You should think more before you speak. I already know what you're seeking me for, so there's no need for you to say anything.” They were both silent, and now Graham and Dictator were both circling each other, quietly sizing each other up. Shaft stepped back; the atmosphere was tense enough for him to know what was coming. “I came here to ask you if you'd be so kind as to join me.” Graham let the top of the wrench fall and scrape the ground as he circled, before they both stopped. “Come with me and you'll be able to see your boss again.”

Graham's eyes lit up. She had spoken the words that he'd wanted to hear. “So you do have my boss?” She nodded.

“And I assure you, I'm not holding anyone against their will. If you don't want to come with me, that's fine. But you both will probably have your souls eaten by demons.” A flash of fear went through Shaft's body as she spoke of the demons.

“...demons?”

The Wolf & Company

1500 hours (3:00 PM)

“So yer sayin' ya' have no idea what happened to him?”

“Well...when I left he was human...”

“Hey, shh, I think he's waking up.”

Something was definitely wrong here, Keith decided when he finally opened his eyes. At first, his vision was blurry, but finally he saw Luck, Firo, and Claire standing before him, staring with curiosity and wonder. Wondering exactly what had happened, he lifted up his head and looked around, his eyes finally falling on a spilled puddle of water that had formed beside the couch he'd fallen asleep on a few hours ago. Shocked, he reeled back as he noticed that he was, indeed, no longer human, but a reddish-brown colored Timber wolf. He let out a yelp, falling over the back of the couch, lying helplessly on the ground. He wasn't used to having four legs, and he looked up at Luck when he circled around the back of the couch, resting his hand on his brother's forehead.

“Just calm down, I'm sure this is just something concerning the power you have,” he told him. Luck helped the wolf to his feet, and Keith staggered, leaning against his brother's legs for support. “We'll check with Dictator when she comes back, alright?” Keith started to whine, but he stopped himself, disliking the strange noise that came from his throat. He then attempted to take one shaky step forward, making sure it was firmly planted before taking another step, and slowly rounding the side of the couch to face Firo and Claire.

“So his power is turnin' into a dog?” Firo asked, and Claire laughed.

“He's not a _dog_ , Firo, he's a _wolf_ ,” Claire corrected him, looking over at Keith, who bristled and growled. Just as he did, the front door swung open, and Dictator walked in, followed by Oliver, Graham, and Shaft. Oliver trotted over to Keith curiously, his tail twitching back and forth. The fur along the wolf's spine rose as he growled again, pulling back his lips to show his teeth.

“It looks like he finally did it,” Dictator grinned, and Luck turned to face her.

“What do you mean?” He asked curiously, watching as Oliver swatted at Keith with a sheathed paw.

“He finally shifted. I was wondering when he'd do it; I figured out his power a while ago, but I couldn't confirm it until now. Your brother is a biotic shape shifter.” Luck was quiet for a moment, contemplating her words.

“Biotic shape shifter? What do you mean by that?”

“It means, that as long as it's living, your brother can shape shift into it. Apparently, his dominant form is the Timber wolf. They always have their first shift in their dominant form.” Now that he'd finally figured out how to use his legs, Keith jumped back onto the couch to escape Oliver, who pursued him. “He won't be able to shift back for two days, so until then we'll have to watch him. The longer they're in their form, the less human they become. The last thing we need is for him to destroy the house; wolves become highly destructive when they get bored.”

“So you mean for two days he's gonna be stuck like this?” Luck echoed in disbelief, and she nodded.

“Uh huh. It won't be that bad, as soon as he fully understands what's happening, he should be fine.”

They weren't aware of it at the moment, but this would be the last time that all of the people in the house would have a calm moment together for the next few months.

Luck Gandor, taken by Cornelius [ ** _The Killer_** ]

2300 hours (11:00)

Night. It was cold, and the warm feeling of blood washed over him.

Night, and he'd killed the entire family of people. Mother, father, brother, sister. The tangy taste of blood filled his mouth as he searched for what he wanted: the souls. Although the one he really wanted was the soul of Luck Gandor, this would have to do for now. He was hungry, and he hadn't eaten for days.

Night. Four souls, and now he was full. Cornelius wiped the blood from his mouth, looking at his blood-covered knife. Smiling, Cornelius tilted his head back, letting a laugh tear up from the bottom of his chest and echo through the still air.

Night, and the killing had begun.


	6. Sickness

Chapter Five [Sickness]

July 12th, 1932

The Healer

0900 hours (9:00 AM)

When Luck awoke the next morning, the first thing he noticed was that he was _sick_. Horribly, terribly, inexplicably sick. He was so sick that he could barely move; he only managed to move his head and look over at the clock. It was still pretty early, and he was lying in his bed. His hair was wet and slick, as though he'd just taken a shower, and he almost thought that it was odd. He couldn't really quite focus on _any_ thoughts at the moment, however. He felt wretched, and so very hot. Leaning over the side of the bed, Luck emptied his stomach of anything that might have been in his stomach from last night, before lying back on his bed. He felt very helpless, and against his will, he whined out;

“Claire!” He was quiet for a few moments, before desperation grew in his chest. “Claire!” He called out, louder, and with more force. His voice shook, and he leaned over to vomit again as he heard the rapid footsteps of his brother approaching the room.

“What's wrong?” He asked, sliding over to sit on the bed next to him. Luck heaved in a few breaths, before looking over at Claire with lidded eyes.

“I...I don't know, I'm just sick,” he replied, turning to face him and resting his head on the pillow. A thought suddenly occurred to him, and a cold shudder rushed down his spine. “Get...Dictator, I need...” he let his sentence trail off as his eyes closed suddenly, his body falling limp against the sheets.

“Luck?” Claire questioned, a bit of worry creeping into his voice as he nudged Luck's shoulder. He didn't get a response. Standing up, Claire ran out of the room and down the hallway, bursting in through Dictator's door without so much as a knock to warn her.

“Claire!” She hissed when he came in through the door. She had been reading a book, a journal it looked like, with strange symbols and text on the front and side. She shut it quickly and shoved it under her pillow, brown eyes fiery. “What the hell—”

“It's Luck,” he told her, walking over to the side of her bed and pulling Dictator to her feet. She let out a half-squeak in surprise, before wrenching herself from Claire's grip. “He's sick, you have to help him.”

“You didn't have to jerk me out of bed so violently!” She protested, frowning. “All you had to do was say that!” Dictator huffed as she moved past Claire and walked down the hallway to Luck's room, Oliver getting up from where he'd been lying to follow her. As soon as she reached the room, Dictator could see that there was, indeed, a problem here. “Pick him up and meet me in the back room downstairs,” Dictator told Claire, her eyes flashing as she noticed a pair of bloody knives on the desk beside Luck's bed.

“Why?” Claire asked as he pulled his younger brother into his arms. Luck groaned unconsciously and curled up into Claire's warmth, holding him close tightly.

“Don't ask questions right now, I'll explain everything later.” She grabbed the pair of knives and started off out of the room again, running down the stairs. In the living room, everyone was still asleep who'd bothered to sleep down there. Isaac and Miria were curled up together in the armchair, Ladd was sprawled out on the couch, Graham was propped up against the wall, Shaft was curled up under a thick blanket on the floor, and Firo had made himself a mattress out of pillows and was asleep on it. Dictator had to be careful not to trip over any of them, with Oliver and Claire following her lead.

As soon as she reached the back room, Dictator motioned for Claire to put him down on the couch. He did so hesitantly, taking a blanket that had been thrown across the back of the couch and tucked it around his brother securely, watching as he moaned again and curled up, gripping the blanket tight and resting his head on the couch pillow.

“We're going to have to watch him for a little bit,” she told him, sitting in one of the chairs and pulling it up so she could be beside Luck. The bloody knives rested in her lap, and her fingers traced circles on the hilt worriedly. “It's possible that he...” she let her sentence trail off, and Claire looked over at her quickly.

“That he what?” He demanded. Just as she was about to say something, Luck shifted on the couch, turning over and emptying his stomach on the rug in front of the couch. Claire rubbed his back as he did, and when he was done, Luck lied back down and went back to sleep as though nothing had happened. This appeared to worry Dictator even more, and she stood up and went to go find a towel, muttering to herself. “Tell me what's wrong with my brother!”

The yell was unexpected, and Dictator jumped as she opened up a closet. She frowned and turned her head away, taking a towel out of the closet before she closed it. “Mmm...it's possible that he's the one that the head demon has chosen to possess.”

“Head demon?” Claire's voice held a hind of disbelief, but no fear. “What is that?”

“Whenever a group of demons goes out for a kill like this one, they elect a head demon to lead them. The one they choose is usually the oldest and most powerful of the entire group. It also has the largest range of powers.” Her voice quieted. “And if he has been possessed, that would explain the bloody knives, and the sickness. It would also explain...” She trailed off again, and Claire's eyes narrowed.

“Would you stop doin' that?” He asked. “It's getttin' annoyin'.” Dictator tightened her jaw as she walked over, setting the towel down over the mess before she cleaned it.

“It would also explain the four deaths this morning. Oliver told me about it, a family of four was brutally killed last night. Their bodies were torn apart, barely recognizable. It was the style of a demon.”

Claire seemed confused when she mentioned Oliver, but he shook his head as though he was shaking it away, not letting it deter him from asking another question. “And you think Luck did it?” She shook her head.

“No. The demon might've used your brother's body, but...Luck himself didn't commit these crimes. It's possible that if anyone saw what happened, they did see him though. We'll have to keep him from going outside if he gets better.” Claire sighed as he sat at Luck's feet, reaching over to rub his back again as he slept. For a moment, they sat in silence, before there was the sound of a frightened shriek and someone laughing. Dictator's frown deepened as she stood, crossing her arms. “What have they done now...”

When she arrived in the living room, the first thing she noticed was that the couch was on fire. The second thing she noticed was the group of people that were either backing away from it or drawing closer in wonder. The third thing she noticed as Ladd, laughing loudly as he held out his hand. She noticed that his fingertips also were on fire, and she frowned.

“What did you do?” Dictator muttered, walking over to him and turning up her nose at the smoldering couch. She'd have Luck fix it when he was conscious. “And, if you would please, put out that fire...”

“I'll take care of it.” Dictator turned as she heard Maiza's voice. Walking over to the couch, he held out a hand, and put out the small fire with a blast of water. She let out a relieved sigh. It was good to have someone who had the power to manipulate water around, especially when the person who could manipulate fire was none other than Ladd Russo.

“Well, believe it or not, this ain't exactly my fault, doll,” Ladd replied, and Dictator's bit her lip to keep from screaming. “If you can believe it, there I was, asleep, and when I woke up, the couch was on fire, just like my hand.” He held up his hand to show her. His fingers were still aflame, and Dictator blinked, her face impervious.

“I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I was wondering when you'd show your power...just snap your fingers, they'll go back to normal,” Dictator told him, waving her hand to dismiss him. “I've got better things to worry about than a Flame who can't control his powers.” Ladd frowned at this, but he snapped his fingers, and the flames vanished. Turning, she started to leave, before she hesitated, looking back at Maiza. “Bring me Keith and Berga, please. They'll want to see their brother.” Maiza looked confused for a moment, but he nodded, going off to find the two.

When she returned, Claire was looking at Luck with sad eyes as he was sick again, more violently than before. As he finally laid back against the couch, he whispered a single word. Claire had to lean in close to hear it, but when he did, he looked over at Dictator.

“He wants water,” he told her, and Dictator shook her head.

“He can't eat or drink anything right now,” she told him. “If he does, it will just hinder the process and make it take longer. The last thing we need is for him to be sick for more than three days.”

“So we can't do _anything_ to help him?” Claire asked, a whine creeping its way into his voice as he looked at her helplessly. She had to think for a moment, tapping her fingers on her leg.

“Well...there is something you can do. Go fill up a bucket with cold water, and I'll get a washrag. We can at least try to keep his fever down.” Claire nodded, though he was reluctant to leave Luck for long. He leaned over and whispered a few words into Luck's ear. The blonde groaned softly in response, and Claire turned to leave, running out of the room. As he left, Keith appeared. The wolf ran over to Luck's side without bothering to acknowledge Dictator or Oliver. Whining, the wolf pressed his nose to Luck's hand, his tail wagging slowly back and forth. Luck could barely move, but he gently pressed the palm of his hand against Keith's forehead, his fingers scratching between his ears.

“What happened?” It was Berga who spoke now, stepping up beside Keith. Luck let out a raspy cough, and Dictator let out a heavy sigh.

“He's sick. I think that it's because he's been possessed.”

“Possessed?!” Dictator saw him visibly stiffen, and she sighed again. “By what?”

“A demon, probably the head demon, the strongest one. That would explain his reaction.” She watched as Keith nuzzled his brother and sat beside him, resting his head beside his own. Luck had stopped vomiting now; she wondered if it was because there was nothing left in his stomach to bring up.

“Can't we do something? Why are we just sitting here!” He exclaimed, and her eyes flashed dangerously again.

“If we could do something, I would have already done it. I'm afraid that if I'm right, there's nothing we can do. We'll just have to wait until he recovers, and then we can do something to stifle the demon's presence.” Looking over at Luck, she bit her lip. Things were definitely becoming more difficult than she originally planned. She hadn't factored this in when she'd made her original plans.

She could only hope that things would still work out smoothly.

1100 hours (11:00 AM)

The Prophet, The Mover, and The Hunter

“Eve? Eve, wake up. We gotta go.” Eve slowly opened her cerulean eyes to look into her brother's cobalt blue ones. He was sitting beside the couch where Eve had slept that night, and she blinked slowly.

“Dallas...you came all the way out here for me?” Dallas nodded, reaching out and brushing a few strands of light blonde hair from her face. She'd stayed in the house, nestled in the countryside in New Jersey, long after Nice and Jacuzzi had gone off. The only ones left in the house were Benjamin and Samantha; Eve thought they would be safe from the demons.

“Dictator's waitin' outside. She says that we'd better get goin'. Do ya' have yer stuff?” Eve nodded. She'd heard a lot about Dictator over the phone. Dallas had called her once every night during the time he'd been away to tell her about the goings-on in the household at which he stayed.

Once they'd brought down everything Eve intended on bringing, the girl paused for a moment, her brow furrowing with worry.

“I've got a bad feeling, Dallas,” she murmured, and he rubbed her shoulder.

“So do I.” His vision last night had been fuzzy, but he knew that someone was going to be attacked today. He just hoped that it wouldn't be his sister getting hurt. “But we'd better get goin'. Dictator doesn't like to wait.”

When they joined her outside, the girl in question looked over at the siblings and huffed. “Took you long enough. Let's move, I want to get back before dinnertime.” The trio, along with Oliver, started off towards the car they'd taken to get there. Suddenly, Oliver stopped, sniffing at the air. Dictator stopped too, gripping his leash tightly. “Wait a minute, you guys.” Eve tiled her head slightly, and Dallas stiffened visibly. Oliver growled lowly, and he approached a clump of bushes, fur along his spine rising. Dictator took a single step forward, before a noise, like a jaguar's yowl sounded, and a blur of black and white slammed into Dictator.

It all happened so quickly, no one except Oliver had time to react. The tiger grabbed the attacker by the leg, pulling it off of his partner and throwing it into a tree. The attacker let out a deadly hiss in response, standing to face them.

Now, they could see that the attacker was a black-haired female, wearing a white dress shirt and black dress pants. Her bright blue eyes seemed to glow as she watched Dictator stand, pulling out a small handgun from her coat. The female made a soft noise of displeasure, but as she moved to disarm her, there was a third voice.

“Stop, Helena.” A red-haired man, wearing priest's clothing stepped out from the shadows. “They are not yours to take.” The female, who they could assume was Helena, snarled loudly in response, before disappearing into the darkness with the red-head. Dictator fired a few shots after them in warning, and Oliver hissed after them.

“Who was that?” Dallas finally asked after a few moments of intense silence.

“Helena Riseman, and the man...well, the demon was Ailbhe Lynch. Helena is a 500 year old demonness who was born in Hell. Ailbhe is a 1500 year old former priest turned demon by his mate, Ling.” Dictator finally turned from the darkness to face the two siblings. Eve had fallen into a fit of shivers in Dallas's arms, and her brother held onto her tightly.

“So you know a lot about these demons?” He murmured as Eve finally stopped shaking, looking over at Dictator with fright in her wide cerulean eyes.

“How do you know so much?” She asked, and Dictator sighed heavily.

“I've studied them. I've been to Hell multiple times to study demons.” Holding up a hand to keep them from asking questions, she whistled for Oliver, who jumped over to her with gusto. “All demon-hunters are required to do so. Demons can't attack humans or hunters who enter Hell.” She was walking back down the path towards the car now, and the siblings followed her, not wanting to see any more demons today. “Helena is practically Ailbhe's daughter. He keeps her in check. If he hadn't shown up, I'dve killed her. She's inexperienced, going after a demon-hunter on her first try.”

As the trio finally reached the car, two pairs of eyes gleamed from the gloom.

The fight had only just begun.

1600 Hours (4:00 PM)

The Hunter & Co.

“He's getting worse,” Claire murmured when Dictator returned. Oliver trotted over to Luck's side where his brothers sat, pressing his nose to Luck's forehead. Keith was lying next to him with his head on Luck's chest, his burnt yellow eyes closed as he slept fitfully. The youngest Gandor's breathing was heavily labored, and Dictator walked over to Luck, taking a thermometer from the table beside the couch and carefully putting it in his mouth so not to wake him. Luck groaned unconsciously and tried to turn his head, but she held him there long enough for the mercury to rise.

“103.5 and rising,” she muttered, and Claire stiffened. “Definitely much worse than when we left this morning...” She sat back in the chair that she'd pulled up, shuffling her feet on the carpet. “It's not good, but at least it means that the sickness is running its course faster than I thought it would. He'll get really bad, and then he'll get better.”

“How do you know that he won't die?”

“The demon won't want to kill him with the sickness alone. Obviously if he's been possessed, then the demon wants to use him for something. He wouldn't kill him like this.” Dictator stood and walked over to the corner, where she'd placed a large bag that she'd brought with her the first day she came to the Gandor's house. Shuffling through it, she pulled out a small box. When she opened it, Claire could see that it held needles of different sizes, and one small vial of clear liquid. She took one of the largest ones and filled it up completely with the liquid, then returned to Luck's side. “This won't cure him completely, but it should numb some of the effects. I couldn't have given it to him earlier, but I can give it to him now.” Dictator lifted the incapacitated man's arm and pulled back the sleeve of his shirt, inserting the needle carefully into his skin and emptying the barrel of its liquid. Luck winced in his sleep, but as soon as she took the needle out and let his arm fall, he relaxed back into his deep sleep.

“So you'll think he'll be okay?” Claire asked again, and Dictator nodded.

“Yes. He should wake up in a few hours as soon as the medicine starts to take effect. It won't last long though, and I'll have to give him more tomorrow. Until then, he'll be alright.” As Dictator walked out, she noticed a small smile appear on Claire's face as he watched Luck sleep.

When she came out from the back room, Dictator noticed Eve talking to Isaac and Miria, who were quite ecstatic to see her, and she also noticed that Dallas was missing. She didn't think he'd be very comfortable in the Gandor household, so she assumed that he'd be hiding like he'd done the first day he'd arrived. Looking over to the couch, she saw the journal that Dallas had been carrying lying there. Dictator's curiosity got the better of her, and she picked it up and sat on the couch, flipping aimlessly through the papers. She noticed a drawing on one of the later pages, one that caught her eye and frightened her only slightly. It was a picture of a wolf lying bleeding on its side. The wolf wasn't colored, but...

Deciding to ignore it for the moment, Dictator flipped to the next page. The words were dark and hard, as though he'd pressed down hard with whatever he'd been writing with.

_From the dark, a race will rise_

_one will submit while the other thrives_

_many a man will meet his end_

_while one girl refuses to bend_

_the valiant wolf will fall_

_only one will save us all_

_only one will save us all_

“What the hell are you doing?”

Dictator looked up to see Dallas standing there, looking at her with anger in his eyes. She shut the journal and he held out his hand. “Let go of it.” She contemplated not giving it to him and trying to get something out of him about the journal itself, but she decided against it and handed it to him. Dallas snatched it from her and held it close, flipping through the pages as though it were a diary and he were its owner, looking for any sign of tampering. “How much did you see?”

“Nothing,” she murmured, standing up and brushing past Dallas. “Nothing at all.” Dallas watched her as she walked up the stairs, then disappeared into her room. He kept the journal close to him, rubbing the outside cover, wondering if she'd been lying.

1900 hours (7:00 PM)

The Healer and The Ruler

“Claire?”

The red-haired man opened his hazel eyes and looked over at Luck, who'd finally awakened.

“Oh, Luck,” he sighed in a relieved tone, leaning over and hugging his brother tightly. Luck, body still heavy with sleep and exhaustion from not having eaten or drank anything, gently hugged him back, and when Claire released him, he fell back against the pillows of the couch. “You're awake, that's good. Maybe that means you'll heal faster...”

“Heal?” Luck asked, rubbing at his eyes. “What do you mean heal? I'm...I'm not hurt...” He looked over himself, as though looking for a wound, and Claire stiffened visibly. His gaze turned over to Keith, who was asleep at Berga's feet, who was also asleep. Claire gave a deep, heavy sigh, before he looked back over at Luck, a pitying half-smile making its way across his face.

“Luck...you've got a demon inside of you. The Head demon, in fact, the strongest one. That's why you're so sick. He's been usin' your body...” Luck looked at Claire in disbelief, before he looked back down at himself, his hands balling into fists. “Don't be mad, Luck, there isn't anything anyone could have done to stop it—”

“Does this mean I'm dangerous now?” His voice was low and quiet, and Claire gave a heavy sigh before he leaned over and ruffled his brother's hair.

“Nah. Not to me at least. I'm sure Dictator will figure out some way to...keep anything from happening.” Claire smiled over at Luck, who managed to smile back, before the girl he'd just mentioned strolled in through the door, a wide grin on her face.

“Good news boys. It looks like Luck should be clear by tomorrow, and the second demon hunter should be arriving tomorrow as well. As soon as she does, we'll be ready to start training for demon hunting.” As she said this, Dallas shifted in the spot that he had hidden behind the door to the back room, his fingers tightening around his journal.

He knew that bad things were about to happen on a large scale, very bad things, and they'd all be caught in the middle of it. And there was nothing they could do to get out of it.


	7. Training Days and the Meeting

Chapter six [Training Days and the Meeting]

July 13th, 1932

All characters

0600 hours (6:00 AM)

All of the immortals were summoned in a sloppy line in front of Dictator, who walked up and down in front of them, swinging a large stick in her right hand, Oliver trotting to the left of her. Most of them were yawning and stretching, not used to being awake and active at this hour. She'd dragged them out of bed at 5:30 and taken them to a remote location in a wooded area far from the house. She and Maiza had “demon-proofed” the area the night before, and it was ready to be used as a training area.

“Why do we have to be up so early?” Firo complained, rubbing at his eyes wearily. Dictator's own brown eyes narrowed in his direction, and she snapped back impatiently;

“Demons will not wait for you to be fully awake before they attack!” The tone of her voice was drastically different than it had been before, and it was obvious that she was starting to take on qualities of her namesake: a war-savvy dictator. “You probably won't be getting a lot of sleep over the next few days anyway, to be totally honest. They're becoming stronger, bolder, and the dark shadow of an attack looms over us. It's only a matter of time until one decides to pounce.” She noticed Luck shift uncomfortably under her gaze, and her eyes softened a bit. “Now, all of you have different powers and different abilities. I'm going to train you on how to use these abilities to battle your opponents. I know each and every demon that is stalking you, so that gives us a leg up on them. They don't know anything about you, but you will know everything about them. Now,” she paused for a moment to take a breath, and to whack Czeslaw, who'd half fallen asleep with the stick that she held. “Pay attention. The other demon hunter should be arriving soon, so straighten up and look presentable. Some of you may know this hunter, and they are quite well known, both here and in the world of demon hunters.” She turned sharply as the sound of clapping echoed behind her, and a pair of blue-green eyes peered out from the darkness at her.

“Very nice introduction, Dictator, but I think I can take it from here.” The owner of the eyes stepped out into the clearing where they were standing, and Dictator grinned. She was dressed in a nice black and white suit, complete with a professional-looking tie, and a black hat sat atop her head. Her hair had been pulled back into a tight ponytail, save for one unruly lock that stuck out behind her ear. Her arms were folded across her chest, and a toothpick of sorts poked out from between her lips. Although she was dressed in a very different style than they had known her in, she was unmistakeable.

“You have a great sense of timing...Lua Klein.” The woman tucked the unruly lock down and grinned, taking out the pick and dropping it on the ground. She took a stand beside Dictator and looked at the group of immortals in front of her, tapping a finger on her chin.

“Quite the unruly bunch we got here, huh? They're kinda scrawny,” she murmured, looking at Jacuzzi. “Kinda small.” Her eyes settled on Firo. “Pretty goofy-lookin'.” She looked at Isaac, who looked up from where he'd been intently studying his shoelaces. The only one who was looking at her as intently as she was looking at them was Ladd; for a second, their eyes met, and Lua forced herself to look away. “You sure these are really the guys we're supposed to be trainin'?”

“I know what you're saying,” Dictator laughed, and a few unhappy looks were shot her way. “But, I'm sure. The demons are coming after them with surprising speed, in fact, two of them and I were attacked by Helena Riseman yesterday. Thanks to Ailbhe Lynch, she managed to escape.” Lua spat at the ground unhappily.

“Bunch of no good demon scum,” she growled, but regained her composure quickly. “Well, let's get on with it then. We've got a lot of work to do.”

By the time the sun had risen and was above them in the sky, Dictator had separated a few of them into groups and was busy letting them test the extent of their powers out on one another. She had situated Isaac with a metal claw-like tool that he put on his hand that channeled the venom in his fingertips into small tubes inside of it that, when met with an object or human flesh, deposited the venom into the victim much like that of a venomous snake would. Miria, who'd discovered her power of controlling ice a few days ago, was busy trying to figure out how to make icicles stab the trunk of a nearby tree. She'd gotten Keith, who'd finally returned to his human form, to try to figure out how to change between his human and wolf form. The shifter was unhappy that he was stuck permanently with a pair of wolf ears and a tail, but Dictator had told him quite harshly to “suck it up” and figure out how to control his shifting. For some of the others who did not have powers prominent enough to use for fighting, like Huey and Dallas, she had told to wait so she could teach them some weapon combat. As of now, however...

“Alright Graham, you can stop climbing now!” She yelled up at Graham, who had climbed up an old oak tree and was nearly at the top, at least fifty feet above the ground. Lua stood next to her, looking up at him with interest. “I want you to jump out now and think “Wings”, alright?”

“You want me to _what_?” Graham struggled to hold on to one of the branches, and he clung to it like a child would cling to its mother. “You're crazy, and I don't ever say that, so you've reached a new low in my book! I think I might like you even less than that red-head now that I think about it, making me climb all the way up here just to jump out and get myself killed, what do you think I can fly? I mean, you could have at least given me a garbage bag!” The last part was spoken with obvious sarcasm, and Dictator rolled her eyes.

“Listen to me, you _can_ fly, you just have to do what I tell you. Honestly, have I been wrong about people's powers?” She had a point. She'd correctly guessed all of their powers days before they had began to show. “Even if you do fall, you're immortal now, so it'll be alright. Lua will catch you!” Dictator laughed, and the other demon hunter shot her a fiery glare. Looking down, Graham felt himself grow nauseous as he saw the distance from where he sat to the ground. He figured that he at least had to try, and, getting to his feet, he did his best to think “Wings” as he took a leap of faith, keeping his eyes closed. If he was going to die, he didn't want to see it. He could almost feel his body hit the ground, and the air suddenly pushed hard against him, and when Graham finally found the courage to open his eyes, he found himself hovering a few feet above the ground.

“...I'm flying,” he breathed, almost speechless for the first time in his life since he learned how to speak. “I'm flying!” Turning his head, he noticed a long bright blue wing, almost the color of his eyes, at his side, and felt something heavy behind his shoulder blades. He gave an experimental thrust, and felt himself rise a bit. Dictator was laughing now, unable to hold it back any longer.

“You can land if you want,” she finally managed to say, wiping a tear from her eye. “I have to say, that was one of the funniest fledges that I've ever seen.” Graham wrinkled his nose in distaste at her, before he let his feet touch the ground, and she grinned. “Now, all you have to do is think “Wings” again, and they'll disappear. So there you have it, the power of flight.”

Dallas had been watching quietly from behind her, and after the wings disappeared, he murmured gently to himself, “The Bluebird.”

“Hmm?” Dictator asked, turning to look behind her. Lua had gone to aid Firo in trying to keep a stick that he'd animated from attacking him, and Graham, filled with excitement after discovering his power, had run off, probably to attempt another flight. “What was that?”

“Graham, he's the Bluebird,” Dallas repeated. “At least, that's...what he is whenever he's in one of my visions. Graham is the Bluebird, you're the Hunter, Luck is the Healer, Eve is the Mover...” he found himself listing nicknames suddenly, and he covered his mouth, shocked that he'd gone on to tell her these things. A little chuckle came from Dictator's mouth, and he looked over at her with his cobalt blue eyes still wide.

“The Hunter...” She ran a hand over her slick hair. “I think it fits.” She smiled over at Dallas, and he felt something start inside of him. This was the first time that she'd seemed mildly pleased with him. The first time that she'd smiled at him.

To be completely honest, Dallas didn't know what to think.

1000 hours (10:00 AM)

The Flame and Lua Klein [The Mistress]

“Hey, since you two can't keep your eyes off of each other, why don't you put yourselves to use and do some battle training?”

Lua felt a tremor run down her spine as Dictator addressed her, and she turned to look at the girl. Dictator leaned against the trunk of a tree, arms folded as she watched Lua with interest. From not too far away, Ladd started, then shot a dirty look in Dictator's direction. It was true, however; almost every few moments the two found themselves meeting each other's eyes, but then looking away after a few tense seconds. It was obvious that their reunion hadn't been a good one.

“Oh...yeah, sure. Mock fight then,” Lua muttered, straightening up as she stepped forward. Ladd bristled visibly, and Dictator's eyes flashed with interest and anticipation as they circled each other, like two wolves ready to fight for the position as alpha.

“How long did you know?” He finally asked, and suddenly his right arm was engulfed in flames. The heat came off of him in waves, and Lua sidestepped as the flames drew dangerously close to her face. Although she obviously wouldn't be hurt for long, she wasn't ready to have her pride damaged in front of the newbie battlers by being hurt by Ladd.

“I was born in the 1700's, if that helps answer your question.” She jumped back again as the flames came close, and felt the tips of her lashes burn and sting with the heat. “I was doomed as a demon hunter the day I was born.” Lua hesitated for one second, and that gave Ladd enough time to punch her in the jaw, sending her skidding across the clearing. He made a move to pin her, but she drove her knees into his stomach, using the momentum to flip him over and pin him down to the ground. She was much stronger than she looked, stronger than Ladd remembered her being, and he struggled underneath her grip. A few drops of blood dripped down Lua's chin and onto the front of Ladd's shirt, but a few seconds later she had healed, and at Dictator's signal relaxed her grip and stood up.

“That was fast,” she said, grinning widely. “In fact I don't think you've ever beaten anyone that quickly, have you Lua?” Ladd's blue eyes, brimming with anger narrowed in her direction as Dictator smirked. She was doing this intentionally, he thought, trying to make him angrier than he already was.

“We've got our work cut out for us,” Lua told her when she walked over, and Ladd and Lua's eyes met once more before they looked away from each other for the final time. It was then that whatever ties they might have still had were broken for good.

The Healer and The Killer

1500 hours (3:00 PM)

_Open your eyes boy, open your eyes and see me._

Luck shifted uncomfortably. He could tell that he was somewhere other than his bed, lying on his back in the grass. Slowly, he opened one eye, looking around with uncertainty. He was lying in a field with sharp green grass as far as the eye could see, and an endless blue sky above him. In front of him stood a man, a dark-skinned man with curly white hair and bright, blood red eyes. Luck inhaled sharply when he first saw him, and a cold smile spread across the other man's face.

“Are you a demon?” He barely managed to whisper, and the other man nodded.  “You must be the one who's taken over me, the demon who made me kill those people.” The man nodded again.

“My name is Cornelius Daemonis, I am the leader of the hunting party that has come to earth. As you can probably tell, I am using your body to eat the souls of others while I wait for the time when I can finally kill you. Your soul is the one that I really want, along with the souls of those pesky demon hunters.” There was a flash, and suddenly Cornelius was in front of him, cupping his cheek in his hand and stroking his hair. “Such a tender soul, I can smell it right now, I'm infatuated with you Luck Gandor.” Luck's hand connected sharply with Cornelius's face, and the demon laughed heartily as he did.

“Keep your hands away from me,” he snarled. The way that he spoke made him feel sick, made his stomach churn. “I won't let you—or any of your demon followers—touch my friends.” Cornelius laughed again, a cold, icy laugh that pierced Luck's heart and made him cringe.

“Oh really? We'll see how much you can do, and keep us from doing, in due time.” Luck felt himself shiver, and Cornelius's image faded, and suddenly Luck found himself in his bed, sitting upright suddenly and sweating profusely. He gripped the blanket and pulled it up to his shoulders, but he was still unsettled, so he called out;

“Keith!” There was the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, before Keith appeared at his side. He looked worried, and his frown deepened when he saw the state that Luck was in. “Oh, Keith,” Luck sighed shakily as his brother sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him close, letting him rest his head on his chest as he gripped his shirt. He started to hum softly in the back of his throat, rubbing his brother's back as he leaned against him. For a few moments they sat there that way, before Luck was asleep again, and Keith gently laid him back against the pillows, watching as he curled up into the blanket.

Things were definitely not getting any better for the youngest Gandor, and they would only continue to get worse.

The Demons

1700 Hours (6:00 PM)

“So Alessandra, were you able to confirm that Cornelius made contact with his vessel?” A messy black haired demon with bright silver eyes asked a female who was sitting across from him. She had black and white striped hair, with a few strands of hair sticking straight up in the back. Her eyes were a bright gold, and she grinned over at the male.

“Yeah. You should've seen the look on that man's face, it was priceless.” The male, who went by the name of Timothy Harr, frowned in her direction.

“Wish I coulda been there.” Helena Riseman, the female who'd attacked Dallas, Eve, and Dictator the other day remarked from where she lied on her stomach, trying to keep a rat from running out of her sight. The rat, frightened by her demonic aura, squeaked and tried to run away, but Helena held fast to the creature's tail.

“Now, now, Helena, stop torturing the Earth creatures,” Ailbhe Lynch, the man who'd stopped her said from where he sat in the corner. He had bright red hair and dark blue eyes, and spoke with a heavily Irish-accented voice. He was reading the Bible, which any other demon would think of as strange, but not Ailbhe. He was wearing old Priest's robes, obviously from hundreds of years ago, and a rosary was strung across his neck.

“They're so weak though, and so deliciously enticing,” a small tan-skinned girl remarked. She had long white hair, and a pair of wolf ears stuck out from the top of her skull. Her long white tail swished back and forth as the rat escaped Helena's grip, and the girl leaped forward and caught it in her teeth, crushing the creature's spine. It gave one last loud squeal, and Alessandra leaped forward, tackling the younger girl as they fought for the rat. The girl, Alexis Zepeda, snapped at Alessandra and attempted to reach the rat, but Alessandra beat her to it, swallowing the creature whole. “Stupid hawk,” she snapped.

“Save your energy,” a man snarled from another side of the room. Half of his face was metal, and one of his eyes gleamed a mechanical red, while the other was deep green. His hair was dark brown, and the man also had a metal arm and leg, and his right hand was also metal. “Those humans aren't as weak as we thought, and the demon hunters are training them to kill us.”

“I don't think they'll be able to do it,” a Chinese man by the name of Ling Zhou remarked from where he sat in one of the chairs. “After all, they are only human after all.”

“Now don't say that, we have no idea what these humans are capable of.” A Russian man by the name of Niklaus (no last name, oddly enough, he'd dropped it when he became a demon) remarked as he cleaned off one of his heavily decorated swords. “I've been watching mine, the red-head Claire Stanfield for a while. He's definitely capable of going toe-to-toe with any one of us.”

“Well, we'll find out tomorrow,” Alessandra finally spoke again. “When we attack.” The other demons chuckled and murmured in acceptance under their breaths.

The war was about to begin.


	8. The Shot Heard 'Round New York

Chapter Seven [The Shot Heard 'Round New York]

July 14th, 1932

The House

0600 hours (6:00 AM)

 

It was quiet. Too quiet, Dictator thought to herself as she stood guard outside of the door to the house, shifting slowly from one foot to the other while she kept her dark brown eyes trained on the darkness. Although she and Maiza had placed the demon rejection spell on the house, it was possible that the barrier had some weak spots, and the last thing that she needed was a demon in the house. From here, at least, she could keep Luck from leaving in case Cornelius decided to take over his body. The night air was still and cold, and Dictator shivered slightly. Everyone else was asleep inside of the house, including Oliver, and she was the only one who was awake. She was just too paranoid, too afraid. She knew the strength of the demons who were there, and even though they were young and for some of them it was only their first or second times on Earth, they were very well-trained and strong. She and Lua had only trained the others for a few hours yesterday. The only good thing about this was that she knew which people could already hold their own against a demon if need be, so at least she had some back up in case any demons did decide to infiltrate the home.

Dictator jumped suddenly and pulled a handgun from her coat when she heard a noise, but relaxed when she found that it was only Maiza. Putting it back in the holster, she settled down as Maiza sat beside her from where she was sitting on the front steps. He wore a long overcoat over the shirt he wore to sleep in, and although his pants were thin, he didn't shiver. It wasn't like Dictator was really shivering from the cold, it was mostly just from the images in her own imagination from what would happen if a demon got in the house.

“You're very jumpy this morning,” Maiza noted, and Dictator sighed. Maiza and Dictator had met long ago, back in early 1902, when Dictator came into possession of the estate of a rich businessman named John Silverman. The man had adopted her as his daughter, but Dictator had quickly realized that this was not the main purpose that he wanted to use her for. When he tried to force her into having sex with him one night, she had thrown him out of the window of the second story. The fall hadn't killed him, but his guard dogs, hungry from lack of feeding, devoured their cruel master as soon as they laid eyes on him. Ever since then, considering that she was the only person listed in his will, she'd taken over of the estate and its servants. Maiza had been traveling through the New York countryside on business, and Dictator had allowed him to stay in the mansion. The two had become friends after that, and they'd kept in touch since then, and he'd come to know her very well.

“I know. I just feel the demonic aura drawing closer...” She suddenly gave a hiss of pain, and Maiza looked over at her with worry. Dictator gripped her right arm tightly, and she pulled back the sleeve to see the intricate Mark of the Hunter on her right arm glowing a bright orange. “Dammit...Maiza...” she growled, her breaths coming in deep, heavy gasps. The pain was obviously excruciating, and Maiza put a hand on her shoulder. “Maiza...wake the others. They're here.” Dictator stood on shaky legs, looking out across the street and around the house, expecting to see glowing red eyes somewhere. “They're here,” she repeated again, this time more quietly and more to herself. Maiza nodded and ran back inside of the house to wake the others, and Dictator pulled her handgun out again, ready to use it if she had to.

It didn't take long for Maiza to wake all of them. When he first mentioned the word “demons” to the group that had slept downstairs, they had caused such a commotion that it woke up everyone else, and soon they were running about the house, preparing for the battle. Lua was barking out orders like a war general and getting those who were not skilled enough yet to the basement. She herself had donned a pair of pistols and had a bulky sword strapped to her hips, and was ready to fight. Since she had no power that could be used in physical combat, she had to be content with using weapons to fight, which really didn't bother her in the slightest. Among the few who were able to fight, Luck had been sent off to guard the back door, which was where the shield was most vulnerable.

 _Do you really think you'll be able to fight off a demon with your pathetic body?_ Cornelius asked from somewhere deep inside of him, and Luck's grip on his pistol tightened.

“I'm not going to listen to you. You're nothing but a troublesome conscience that tries to lead me astray,” Luck stated coldly, and Cornelius laughed again. “We'll see who's laughing when all of this is over.”

By the time the racket in the house had calmed, everything became deathly silent. All of the “soldiers” were outside, ready to fight and ready to kill, but nothing was happening. Dictator and Maiza were standing outside, the atmosphere tense and heavy. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, before Dictator's head turned and she called out;

“Maiza, watch out!” The tall man ducked just in time, and a silver-haired female soared over him and crashed into the wall. With a snarl, she turned on him, and Maiza fired a few shots. The shots echoed through the air, and the other demons seemed to take this as a cue.

There was one for each human, and there were so many... Dictator cursed mentally as she heard more shots ring out, and the yelling begin. She quickly scrambled up to the roof and looked out across the approaching swarm. She knew each and every one of them by their faces and their style, and she felt panic grow in her chest. Were the others ready? Would the demons take their souls? Would someone die because Dictator didn't hold up her end of the work?

A bullet struck dangerously close to her foot, and Dictator yelped, falling backwards through the window to the attic, landing backwards onto some boxes. Dust sprang up all around her and she coughed, making her way backwards onto solid ground. A heavy body crashed into her, and Dictator growled as she forced her knees into the attacker's stomach, throwing them from herself. The attacker crashed into some boxes as well, before turning and looking at her with glowing blue eyes.

“Helena! Back for more, are we?” Dictator fired a few shots into the darkness around her, and the eyes disappeared. She heard the sound of footsteps, and she knew instinctively that Helena was trying to find the exit door. She wouldn't let her, she couldn't let her find it, and Dictator let out a yell as she tackled the demon, pushing her to the ground as they tussled. Dictator kicked her in the stomach again, and Helena slid across the ground and slammed into the wall. Just as Dictator aimed the gun at her, Helena made a wise decision to jump out of the window, and Dictator snarled. What a fool, attacking her instead of the human that she had preyed on. Dictator knew for a fact that she was not the one Helena was after; she figured that Helena was only trying to get her back for what happened the other day.

Just as Dictator finally got to her feet, Helena escaped through the shattered window. Dictator noticed bright red blood pooled around, and she knew that she'd managed to wound her. A smirk spread across her lips as she looked around carefully, and then Lua's face appeared in the window. Blood speckled her cheeks, and Dictator could tell by the smell that came from it that it was definitely demon blood.

“You alright?” The other demon hunter asked as Dictator pulled herself out of the attic. Blood oozed from a cut on her ankle, but the pain was minimal, so she just shrugged.

“Yeah. I got her though, she's bleeding pretty badly. I doubt she'll be coming back any time soon.” There was a cry of retreat, and Dictator watched as the demons struggled away from their opponents and began to run off down the streets. A few curious people had wandered out to watch the mayhem; organized crime attacks weren't uncommon in the area, and some people regarded them almost as some form of entertainment. Dictator knew that the demons hadn't thought about that, so they probably wouldn't launch another large scale attack like this one in the near future. “What's the damage, Lua?”

“One dead demon,” Lua replied with gusto. “Almost everyone's injured in some way, but it's nothing really serious. Maiza's takin' care of 'em.”

“Which one is dead?” Dictator asked as she jumped from the low overhang to the ground, brushing dirt and dust from her coat and pants.

“Naria Kahn, the demonness who attacked Maiza. She wasn't very strong or all that intelligent, to be honest. He finished her off easily.” Lua followed suit after Dictator, jumping from the roof and going inside the house. Maiza hadn't wasted any time in setting up a makeshift “hospital” in the back room where Luck had stayed when he was incapacitated. A few mattresses had been laid out on the floor, and those whose injuries were worse than the others were laid out on them, bandages visible on their bodies. Ennis had been stabbed all down her leg, and Firo sat worriedly at her side, even though she'd already been taken care of and was stable. Firo himself had bandages wrapped around his shoulder from where he'd been shot, and more around his side where a bullet had skimmed him.

“Dictator.” The girl jumped when she heard her name, and she whirled around quickly, reaching subconsciously for the gun in her coat. She relaxed when she saw that it was only Dallas, and her hand fell back to her side.

“Dallas, don't scare me like that, I was going to shoot you,” she growled, but the expression on Dallas's face remained unwavering.

“Well I just wanted to know if...it'd be alright if you taught me how to use a sword?” Dictator was quiet for a moment, shifting from one foot to the other, before she shrugged.

“I suppose. It'd be best if you could defend yourself, after all. I do warn you, Ailbhe is a skilled swordsman, so I wouldn't suggest trying to do anything anytime soon. But I can teach you.”

It was then that the seeds of friendship and many things to come had been planted.

July 20th, 1932

The Second Attack

1500 hours (3:00 PM)

It had been three days since the first attack was launched, and all of the immortals were still shaken by the experience. It was obvious that they hadn’t experienced such an attack on themselves for quite some time, but afterwards their training only intensified. Dictator kept them on a constant schedule of work and breaks, and the house was always guarded at all times. Although she knew that the demons probably wouldn’t be attacking on such a large scale again, it was still important to keep the house guarded in case some of them decided to come alone.

One of the few good things from this encounter was that (thanks to Lua), the location of the demons’ hideout was discovered. It was quite far from the city, actually, out in the scarcely-inhabited woodlands of New York. It was a good place to go unnoticed, and it was also a good battleground for this war. They made plans to move out tomorrow, but for today, they were faced with a much more trivial problem.

“What do you mean there’s no food?” Dictator asked, boredom apparent in her voice, looking over at Luck like he was wasting her time. He’d came into her room a few moments ago, then declared with certainty that there was no food. “There has to be something…”

“No, there’s nothing. They’ve eaten it all, there’s no food or anything to drink.” Luck stated seriously. “They even ate the lettuce in the bottom of the ice box.”

“It sounds pretty desperate then…” Dictator murmured, fiddling with her gloves in thought. “Well, it’s too dangerous for any of us to go to the store to buy more. It’d be too easy for a demon to attack. The only option would be for someone without a demon to go for us.”

“I might know a guy,” Luck told her, and a few minutes later, they were standing with Ronny, the Martillo’s secretary, and a demon himself. They had to stand outside, due to the unfortunate demon rejection spell on the house, and the fact that the only spot weak enough for a demon to enter without being unharmed was up through the attic.

“So all you want me to do is go to get food for you and the others?” He asked. He was speaking with the same boredom that Dictator had expressed when she spoke to Luck a few minutes ago, and she shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Yeah. Here, take this and buy us a month's worth of food and stuff to drink,” Dictator told him, handing him a stack of bills that were obviously of high value. “Keep the change. And I won't be bothering you for another month.”

“To think that I'd become the food runner for a group of people hiding from a group of demons...me...” Ronny gave a small laugh as he pocketed the cash. “Well, no matter.” He went off down the street, and Dictator and Luck were quick to hurry back inside the house before anything else could happen. They had one small problem solved, but there were many others that were yet to come, and many that still remained unsolved. And even though they didn't starve that night, starving would have been much better than the pain they were about to endure.

1700 hours (5:00 PM)

The Hunter, the Prophet, and the Mover

_Clash! Clang!_

Eve found herself pausing outside the entrance to the Gandor's basement when she heard the noise of metal hitting metal. What was going on down there? At first, she thought that it would be best to simply ignore the noise, but her cursed curiosity got the better of her, and she started to walk down the stairs, stopping in the middle when she could see clearly what was going on.

Dictator raised her sword as Dallas's crashed against hers again. Dictator strained against the pressure that he put against her, then raised her leg and kicked the bigger man in the stomach, causing him to let up if only for a moment. She lunged right at his chest, but he somehow managed to block right in the nick of time, and then, in a movement so fast that you would've missed if you blinked, managed to stab it into Dictator's shoulder. Eve's eyes widened as she watched Dictator crumple to her knees as Dallas pulled the sword from her body, thinking that, for a moment he'd managed to seriously hurt her. The blood began to recede back into her body however, and Dallas pointed the sword at her head, running the flat side along her neck.

“Looks like I win, huh?” He asked, a smug half-smile on his face. Dictator exhaled sharply, looking up at Dallas with a smile on her lips as well.

“Yeah.” Dallas's sword slipped off of her neck and Dictator stood, brushing herself off and examining the tear in her clothing. “You learn pretty quickly. One wouldn't think that just by looking at you.” Dallas looked taken aback for a moment, before his smug grin turned into one of true merit, a genuine smile, almost.

“Dallas...” Eve finally spoke softly, and they both turned to look at her suddenly. “So this is what you've been doing the past few days?”

“Oh Eve, you saw that?” He rubbed at the back of his head, a little nervously it seemed, and he grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry for not tellin' you or anything. Me an' Dictator have been practicing—”

“Could you teach me too?” Eve asked suddenly. “I want to learn how to defend myself...I mean, I have a demon that I have to kill. I won't be able to do it with levitation alone.”

“Well, we're both kind of busy, but I'm sure that Lua wouldn't mind teaching you. She's free now, in her room I think. If you run, you'll probably be able to catch her before she goes off to do anything.” The young immortal nodded happily, before turning and running off back upstairs.

“She's strong, Dallas. Real strong. You've got a tough little sister on your hands,” Dictator told him, elbowing the former-thug in the ribs playfully. “Who knows, maybe one day, she'll rival you in your abilities with a sword.” Dallas just gave a soft huff, an almost laugh at her words. That day would arrive sooner than they both thought.

The Hunters, the Riser, the Healer, the Spark, the Daughter [Ennis] the Father [Maiza Avaro] and the Son [Czeslaw Meyer]

July 18th, 1932

1200 hours (12:00 PM)

“There it is.” Dictator pointed straight ahead at a large, formerly abandoned house that was now inhabited by a few of the demons: Helena Riseman, Timothy Harr, and Jacob Vier. Although they were only Nice's, Firo's, and Czeslaw's demons respectively, Dictator had brought Luck and Maiza along with her to help fight. Although Luck was still inhabited by Cornelius, he was quite skilled at fighting, and Maiza had killed his own demon within thirty minutes, so his skill far exceeded that of almost any of the other immortals. Naturally, she'd wanted them to come with her to come take care of the three demons that were now staying in the house alone. The demons had split apart after the first attack, and this house was the closest to the Gandor's home, so this was the first one they'd be attacking. Helena had been wounded the other day, so she was the main target for Dictator at the moment.

“Here's the plan,” Dictator told them as they crouched in the bushes outside of the path that led up to the house. “I'll douse your weapons in this liquid here. It makes it so that the demons won't heal automatically from whatever you use to hit them. I gave you some prereadied weapons the other day, but since they didn't seem to do very well, I'll just apply this to the weapons you use normally.” She pulled a medicine bottle full of clear liquid from the pocket of her jacket, and was now pouring it on the weapons they had assembled. “Ennis is going to draw out Timothy and Jacob. I doubt that Helena will come out since she's injured. Nice, I want you to go inside and take care of Helena for me. When Firo gives you the signal, I want you to start setting off the bombs alright? Czes, Maiza is going to help you with Jacob. Firo, you and Luck are going to take care of Timothy. Got it?” They all nodded, and Dictator handed them their weapons, a vicious smile appearing on her face. “Let's do this. Ennis?”

Without hesitation, the red-haired girl stepped out onto the path, in plain sight of the windows and in front of the door. For a moment, she stood completely still, not moving, like a deer caught in headlights. Suddenly, there was the sound of splintering wood, and a flash of black, and Timothy came into sight as he slammed into Ennis. He'd run out of the door with such force that the old wood had cracked, and the sound that vibrated from their collision was like two boulders slamming together. Without fail, Firo launched himself from the bushes, embedding a knife into the demon's back. Timothy let out a scream, a scream that was unlike that heard from any creature before, and he reared up, throwing off his attacker and leaving Ennis. Blood dripped from his back onto the ground, and his scream attracted Jacob. The dusky brown haired demon focused on Czeslaw, who'd come out after Firo, and he was off like a bullet, aiming straight for him. Maiza managed to intercept the demon before he could hit Czeslaw head-on, and they both tumbled onto the ground, writhing and fighting like cats.

While all of that was going on, Nice made her way into the home. Surely enough, Helena limped from one of the bedrooms upstairs, saw Nice, and went to run out the back door. The girl caught her, however, and the two tumbled as Helena struggled to get away. Blood leaked from her reopened wounds, and she hissed loudly, finally managing to break free from Nice's grip and struggling to go backwards, to find some kind of refuge.

Dictator listened to the noises inside of the house, and her attention was peaked as she suddenly heard a screech. It didn't sound right, and she called for Ennis as she jumped into the house. When they approached, Dictator noticed Nice lying bleeding and panting heavily on the floor, holding her shoulder and shivering slightly.

“Nice, what the hell happened?” Dictator demanded, and Nice looked up at her with worry and fright.

“I dunno, there was a flash of red and a sword...” Dictator hesitated for half a second, before growling low under her breath.

“Ailbhe...but how in the hell did he get here so quickly?” She shook her head suddenly, looking around. “Where's Helena?”

“She ran off after he got me.” Nice got to her feet, still clutching her injured shoulder.

“Ennis, take Nice and get out of here,” she ordered, and as Ennis nodded, there was a noise that sounded like a tiger's roar. Dictator knew that it couldn't have been Oliver, she'd left him at home, and suddenly Timothy was back, pouncing on Ennis like she was his prey and he was the hunter. Unprepared, she gave a cry as she fell, struggling to get the much larger demon off of her.

“Ennis!” Firo yelled out as he slammed into the demon's side, forcing him off of his partner. Timothy snarled loudly at this and tackled Firo, despite Firo plunging his dagger as far as he could into his tailbone. “All of ya', get out of here! Nice, set off the bombs quick!” Nice looked uncertain, but Firo's reddish eyes burned into her own, and her face became solemn as she nodded. As she lit a match, Ennis looked over at Firo, her own violet-tinted eyes wide and full of fear.

“Firo, no, you'll get yourself killed!” She exclaimed, but Firo only called back;

“Just get outta here!” Ennis started to hesitate, but Nice had already thrown the match, and Dictator grabbed her by the arm as they ran out. The first thing she noticed was Jacob, who lied in a bloody mess by the side of the house, Maiza, who was covered in blood and holding an equally blood-covered Czeslaw to his chest, and Luck on his knees next to the both of them. Before she had a chance to say anything, there was a sudden blast of heat and debris, and as the whole house caved in, the only thing that she heard was Ennis's scream.

“What the hell happened?” Dictator asked in a low growl as she approached the three. Maiza didn't speak, only kept Czeslaw close to him, and Luck turned to look at her.

“The red haired Irish demon came. He cut Czeslaw up his stomach and chest before he ran off with Helena, but Czes is still breathing,” he replied. “What happened in there?”

“Firo had Nice blow the place up with he and Timothy still inside,” Dictator replied solemnly, and Luck's eyes changed suddenly as he stood.

“Not Firo,” he said breathlessly, and Dictator nodded. Before she could stop him, Luck had passed by her and ran over to the smoldering heap of wood and glass and started to tear through it, looking frantically for anything, any sign of his friend. First, he came across the body of Timothy, which he tossed aside like a piece of rotting garbage. After a few more seconds of searching, he let out a loud wail like he'd been hit, and Ennis was suddenly at his side, tears streaming down her face.

There lied their friend and companion, covered with dust and glass, his eyes closed and a few drops of blood splashed on his body.

Firo Prochainezo was dead.


	9. Mourning and Revenge

Chapter Eight [Mourning and Revenge]

July 21 st , 1932

  
  


The Funeral

1000 hours (10:00 AM)

Quiet. Everything was so terribly quiet as the mourners stood in a small field not too far from where they had trained. They spoke not a word, and the only sound was that of a few people crying or sniffling. Dictator dug the grave herself since no one else could bring themselves to do it. She’d also fashioned him a headstone that read “Firo Prochainezo, 1912-1932.” He would’ve been 20 that year, so young, and he had an eternity ahead of him. It shouldn’t have happened, she told herself, if only Ailbhe hadn’t thrown everything off, Firo might’ve lived. It just wasn’t right.

Ennis had sat up with the casket all night despite her injuries, bursting into a fit of tears and shaking every once and a while. Now, she stood leaning heavily on Maiza’s shoulders, covering her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to do it, to look at the grave of her partner. Maiza was doing his best to comfort her, but it was obvious just by looking at him that he was just as upset as Ennis.

His death was affecting Luck in a similar, yet entirely different way. The two of them had been friends since they were very young, and Luck trusted Firo more than any other person that he had ever met. It just wasn’t fair, he didn’t’ deserve death. The only good thing that came from this tragedy was that two demons were now lying dead, but at a terrible cost. Czeslaw was still in critical condition, and no one knew whether he would live or die yet. The outlook, according to Dictator and Maiza, was not very good.

 _How does it feel?_ Luck felt himself stiffen when he heard Cornelius’s words, hands balling into fists at his sides. He forced himself not to speak. Now was not the time. _How does it feel to know that your best friend is dead and that another immortal will be dead soon?_ He couldn’t take it, he just couldn’t, and Luck fund himself storming off back towards the house, pain, bitter anger, and suffocating sadness flowing through his veins.

“Shut the hell up,” he snarled darkly when he was out of earshot from the others. “Two of your friends were killed, too. Three, actually.”

 _Friends? They were no friends of mine. They were simply pawns._ Luck felt his stomach churn and turn to ice as he leaned against the back door, arms and legs shaking profusely. He managed to stumble back inside however and collapsed on the couch in the back room, his hands feebly gripping the arm of the couch. He was tired, so very tired now. _Simply pawns, just as you are._ Before he could stop himself, a sheet of black cast over his eyes, and he fell into a deep, undisturbed slumber.

  
  


The Healer, The Killer, and the Prophet

1900 hours (7:00 PM)

As the sun went down and the darkness of night began to settle over the earth, Dallas found himself taking a walk. Somewhere inside of him, Dallas knew that it was too dangerous, that he shouldn't be outside in unprotected territory like that on his own. He had his sword strapped to his side though, it wasn't like he was unarmed. Dictator's warning about Ailbhe echoed in his mind, but he wasn't about to doubt himself. He'd be able to hold his own if the demon came to attack him.

Although it wasn't all that late, the streets were starting to thin out, the last people starting to make their way home. A few lights were still on in the windows of buildings, a few busybodies who weren't ready to throw in the towel and go to bed yet. As he walked by, Dallas remembered the many times where he used to stand outside of his own house late at night, watching as the light in his father's window stayed on until the wee hours of the morning. He remembered his father that way, always busy, always doing things to keep himself in business. Even though he wasn't doing anything legal, Dallas could always admire him for having the one thing that Dallas didn't have: motivation.

There was suddenly a loud shriek that pierced Dallas's thoughts and brought him back to real life, and he turned his head to the direction of the noise. Normally, that kind of thing wouldn't attract his attention, but, he thought to himself, what if it was a demon? He wondered what kind of glory he'd earn himself if he were to kill a demon all on his own. Maybe he might even earn himself some kind of hero status, anything to make his already inflated ego bigger.

When he finally reached the source of the cry, he was not prepared for what he found. There was a boy, a young boy, probably about ten or eleven crouched in an alley. A man loomed over him, eyes bright ruby red, dark blood dripping off of him from when he'd killed earlier. At the sound of Dallas's approaching footsteps, the man turned to face him, and Dallas felt his blood grow cold as he gripped the hilt of his sword.

“Cornelius.” Although he may have been in Luck's body, it was obvious that the man standing before him, drenched in blood, was not the Luck that he knew. Cornelius's grin grew wider as he looked over at Dallas, twirling his knife in his fingers, forgetting about the boy for a moment. Taking his chance, the boy scurried behind some trashcans, and Dallas moved to get out of the way as Cornelius lunged at him. He managed to cut his side with the knife, and Dallas flinched, watching as the blood dripped from his wound to the pavement.

“And you must be Dallas Genoard, the future-teller? Oh, I know you well.” The demon began to pace around him, and Dallas kept himself facing him, trying not to turn his back on the demon. He knew that he'd pounce on him any chance he got, and Dallas's only hope of being able to escape would be to knock him unconscious. “I also happen to know your demon very well, too. He was the one who got that Prochainezo boy killed yesterday.” Dallas felt his heart rate quicken a bit, but he pulled out his sword nonetheless, the silver metal glinting in the moonlight. Cornelius laughed. “Are you really going to fight me, kid?” As Cornelius lunged at him, he managed to spear the loose edge of his coat with the sword, pinning him to the wall behind him. The demon struggled in confusion for a moment, and in that moment that he was pinned, Dallas hit him with all the force that he could muster in his right hand. It was enough, and Cornelius's eyes switched back to Luck's golden color as he slumped down on the pavement, the sword clanking beside him.

“Hey kid, it'd be best if ya' got outta here. Go home,” Dallas told the boy who still hid behind the trashcans. As the boy slowly came out, he looked at Dallas with wide eyes, with an expression that Dallas had only ever seen Eve give him.

“Are you some kinda hero mister?” He asked, and Dallas found himself laughing, remembering his thoughts only a few minutes ago.

“Nah, not even close. Now get on home, and forget everything you saw here. Alright?” The boy nodded and ran off, and Dallas looked back down at the unconscious, bloody Luck. He grumbled softly to himself, knowing that he wouldn't be able to drag Luck all the way back to the house. Their best bet would be to hide out here until they could return. He managed to get him a little further down the alley until they reached a dead end, and he leaned the man against the corner where the wall of a home met the end of the alley, looking at his bloodied jacket and knowing that it would be best if he could at least get him somewhat cleaned up before he awoke.

When Luck finally regained consciousness, he found that he had Dallas's jacket on instead of his own, and that Dallas himself was pressing his hands hard on the cut that Cornelius had gave him, trying to stop the steady flow of blood that was coming from it. He winced as he lifted up his hands to look at the cut, then pressed them back down again. The cut wasn't particularly deep, but the blood was flowing quickly and freely. Even Luck, even though he felt sick and tired, could see that he was in a great deal of pain.

“He hurt you, didn't he?” Luck managed to murmur. Dallas turned to look at him, startled for a moment, before he relaxed a bit.

“I'm fine, I don't need yer help.” He flinched again as the wound throbbed, and he inhaled sharply through his teeth. Without warning, Luck shrugged off Dallas's jacket, then proceeded to take off his own undershirt, wrapping it tightly around Dallas's side before he could object. When he was finally finished tying the knot, Dallas glared at him.

“I can't breathe, asshole,” he growled, and Luck raised one slender eyebrow at his words as he slipped the jacket back on, buttoning it up as far as it would go.

“You don't sound very thankful for someone who just helped you.”

“Yeah? Well I took out your stupid demon all by myself, and I don't hear you thanking _me_.” Luck hesitated for a moment. That must've been true, so he gave a little smile in reply.

“Alright. Thank you for getting Cornelius out of the way, then.” He paused, like he was waiting for something, and Dallas sighed.

“...thanks, for helping me.” Luck gave another little smile when he heard Dallas's words, before his exhaustion took over him and his head fell back against the bricks as he slipped into a deep sleep yet again.

0100 hours (1:00 AM)

The Killer and Ailbhe Lynch

“Cornelius! Come out, you lazy good for nothing.” Ailbhe gently touched the sleeping Luck with his foot. There was a soft sound, like the wind rustling bushes, and there was a shadow that appeared beside the sleeping man. The shadow then morphed into a demon, Cornelius, and the white-haired demon brushed some dirt from his shoulder. This was the first time since possessing the man that Cornelius had left the man's body, and his form shook a bit as he fought to stay upright. 

“What are you doing here, Ailbhe? I thought you were looking after Helena while she heals.”

“She's fine for now. Jaxon, the cyborg and Alexis are with her. They'll be sure to kill any human who tries to come after her.” Ailbhe scanned over the sleeping Luck and Dallas with a condescending blue gaze, before snorting slightly. “Hmm. I just came to tell you that Alessandra is making her move. She's cut a little close to home for the humans, destroyed some people in the apartment buildings across the street.”

“A grand entrance. It's fitting for a female like her,” Cornelius muttered under his breath, his inherent sarcasm showing through in his voice. “I'll be sure to let this one know. As for yours—”

“I'll be handling him myself,” Ailbhe snapped warningly. “He is mine and mine alone, Cornelius, you know this.”

“Which is why I only cut him instead of stabbing him entirely. I know that you won't want a body too riddled with scars. You only like the pretty ones.” Cornelius smiled, a dangerous, dashing smile, and Ailbhe's eyes flashed red.

“Touch my food again and you'll pay for it.” With those words, Ailbhe disappeared into the darkness, and Cornelius merged back into Luck's body.

_Goodbye, you strange, backwards demon. I won't touch your dinner again, you can be sure of that._

  
  


July 23rd, 1932

The Mover and the Mistress

0800 hours (8:00 AM)

Eve winced again as Lua's sword came down hard against hers, and her body shook as she fought to keep her back. She'd gotten stronger, yes, stronger indeed, even though it'd only been a few days. They train long and hard and without interruption; Lua told her how it would be the first day. Eve had agreed to this willingly, and yet, today something was off. Her body crumpled under Lua's weight, unable to take it any longer, and Eve braced herself for the fall. There was the metallic clang of both of their swords dropping, however, and suddenly the hunter's arms were around her, supporting her to keep her from falling.

“What's the matter with you, eh? You're not fighting like you usually do.” Eve looked up into Lua's blue-green eyes, and she stared back with slight concern reflected in them. Eve eased out of Lua's arms, standing up and brushing off the front of her blouse and skirt, her eyes now downcast to look at the dust-covered floor. “Is it your brother?” Eve's hands balled into tight fists at her sides, her nails cutting into the skin on her palms. Dictator had found the two early that morning and brought them home. Luck (rather, Cornelius in Luck's body) had killed again, a teenager whose body she found not too far away from where they were, and Dallas was hurt. Eve nodded at Lua's question, and the hunter gave a heavy sigh. “Alright then, we're done for today if you want. “There's no reason for us to be sparrin' down here if you can't focus.” Eve couldn't tell if Lua was angry, or if she just didn't care, but she forgot about it for the moment. She took time to prop her sword up against the wall before she ran off, and Lua smiled a little as she watched Eve run back upstairs.

Just as she went to pick up her own sword to some sparring alone, Dictator came down the stairs, Oliver at her side. “Lua, there's been a killing across the street.”

“Cornelius again?” Lua asked, and Dictator shook her head. “No, Luck's body is still too weak...but then, who was it?”

“Alessandra.” A look of disbelief crossed Lua's face, and Dictator nodded solemnly.

“We'd better get moving then.”

The Hunters, the Flame, the Bluebird, and the Prophet

0912 hours (9:12 AM)

“Jesus Christ,” Dictator murmured as she stood outside of the door of the apartment that the killings had occurred in. There had been three people, a group of friends celebrating a birthday or something. The door had been shut, but there was still a copious amount of blood outside of the door that Dictator kept a small distance from. Oliver growled lowly, and Lua did nothing but turn up her nose. Ladd strained curiously at Dictator's side, and Graham practically clung to Ladd's arm, looking at the closed door with a silent longing. Dallas stood off to the side, his journal tucked under his arm as he, too kept his gaze on the door. He'd been the one who'd initially told Dictator about it, having foreseen the deaths a few nights ago, and remembered it this morning when he'd looked in his journal again. The three of them had come along to see the extent of what had happened, although Dictator had warned them to stay back.

“So we gonna go in or what?” Ladd finally asked, and Dictator looked at him through narrowed.

“You go in first. If you can handle it, then the others can look as well. There's blood in the living room and the kitchen, but the bodies are in the first bedroom on the left.” Dictator nodded at the door, and Ladd let out a soft, breathy sound that was an almost-laugh.

“There isn't anything I can't handle,” he told her with certainty, and then turned the knob on the front door and walked in.

There wasn't really anything peculiar about the living room. There was blood in some places, probably from where the people tried to flee when Alessandra first made her attack. Ladd wasn't surprised, he was a killer by nature after all, and none of this bothered him. The door to the first bedroom on the left was shut, and Ladd didn't hesitate as he opened the door like it was his own.

He was not prepared for the scene that met him.

Even when he'd seen the conductor's compartment aboard the Flying Pussyfoot, with all of the blood and gore, this was absolutely nothing like it. This was the style of a demon. The bodies had been completely destroyed. Clothing lie torn and soaked in blood all around the room. Each organ had been torn from each body and thrown about like toys, and the contents of the intestines were strewn around the room just as carelessly as the blood and everything else. Muscle tissue and other tissues lie around the room, on the walls, on the ceiling, on the beds and the bookshelves. The smell of blood and feces and piss was overwhelming. Their heads had been torn open, brains spilling out onto the floor, and their eyes had been gouged out, their tongues torn from their mouths. This was not for revenge or reason. This was simply for _fun_. A joy killing by a demon who was tired of waiting.

Ladd found himself choking before he could stop it, and a pair of strong arms pulled him from in front of the room, turning him back to face the hallway and putting their palms around his eyes. Lua. Ladd didn't have time to say anything before he leaned over and emptied his stomach, his body shaking from the pure force of it all. He couldn't remember the last time that he'd gotten sick. It had been many, many years ago, but simply seeing that scene was way too much for him to handle.

“Alright, alright, calm down,” Dictator's voice came from his right, and Lua pulled away from Ladd abruptly, the door shutting quietly behind him. “Easy now.” Graham was at his side now, too, rubbing his back as he finished vomiting, spitting onto the rug, his breath coming in deep, shaky gasps.

“What happened, Boss?” He asked, his voice much quieter and less energetic than it normally was. Ladd straightened up, putting one hand on the wall to steady himself, to keep from falling over. Ladd shook his head to answer Graham's question, and when he could finally speak, he turned to face Dictator.

“What the hell was that?” The blonde murmured, his voice low and rough. Dictator looked back at the closed door, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“That is the work of Alessandra, the demon who is preying on Berga Gandor. This is basically her way of saying that she's coming for you.” Dictator's jaw was tight, and she brushed past the three people standing in the hallway. “Let's get out of here, then. We've got a lot to do, and not a lot of time to do it.” Putting one arm around Graham's shoulders, Ladd followed her shakily out of the apartment and across the street back to the house.

No one but he, Dictator, and Lua would know the horrifying extent of the murders that had taken place there.

1200 hours (12:00 PM)

The Healer, the Wolf, the Shield, the Ruler, the Daughter, the Viper, and the Snow

When Luck could finally move on his own again, he quickly gathered his brothers, Ennis, Isaac, and Miria and brought them down to the basement. Nobody was scheduled to be in there for a while, and it was important that he talked to them. His anger over the past events had been rising, and it finally tipped over with what had happened that morning. Obviously, if the event had traumatized Ladd Russo so badly that he refused to say what he'd seen, there was a reason to be upset.

“We can't just keep sitting here,” Luck told them. His voice had taken on a new tone; instead of the cool, steady tone that he normally spoke in, he was now speaking like a general. “It's been two days since Firo was killed and Czeslaw was put into a coma by that demon. We can't act like we're afraid of them or they'll just keep taking advantage of us.” Luck paced back and forth in front of the assembled group like an angry tomcat. “So we're going to find them, and we're going to kill them.”

“But we don't know where they've moved to,” Ennis stated, and Luck grinned.

“Actually, I managed to figure out where they're hiding. I listened in to Dictator while she was talking with Lua yesterday.” The others drew closer to him in slight awe. Anyone besides Claire who tried that probably would have been thrashed on the spot, but he'd somehow been able to get what he needed and escape without her even knowing. “They're staying not too far from where the old house was. From what I hear, Helena, Ailbhe and a few other demons are all staying there, including the one who killed those people this morning.” Luck saw Berga's eyes flash, and he knew that he remembered what Dictator had told him that morning. Alessandra was his brother's demon, after all. He also saw Keith stiffen a bit, and he knew that Keith wouldn't be happy with the two of them going up against each other. Alessandra was obviously mad, madder than the other demons, and she also possessed unbelievable strength. “So, are you all ready for this?”

“Of course we are,” Claire grinned, and Luck smiled as well. It was a dangerous smile, a smile that had only darkness and hatred behind it.

“We'll move out tonight after everyone else is asleep. I know that Dictator won't want us to go at all, so we'll have to wait.” He was quiet for a moment, letting everything sink in. “We'll do it for Firo.”

“For Firo!” All of the others (save for Keith) called, raising their fists in agreement.

They would not let their friend's death be in vain.


End file.
